Being Grown-up About It
by Kitty Gets Loose
Summary: From the perspectives of the adults employed at the school – a series of loosely interlinked chapters of exchanges and observations about the hormonal zoo that is the Seidou baseball team. Allusions to Miyuki x Sawamura, Miyauchi x Kawakami and more. Mainly yaoi. Originally rated T, but it has some mature language and references, so now re-rated M.
1. Commission

**Commission**

* * *

In which Miyuki Kazuya tries to get the better of Takashima Rei

* * *

Miyuki Kazuya was the only Seidou student who was allowed to talk to Takashima Rei the way he did without getting slapped with detention. Takashima knew she ought to have put her foot down from the start, but the boy was a special case in so many ways that she had given up rebuking him for his cheek early on in their association. By now, some three-plus years after their first encounter, Takashima no longer said anything about it, provided that he kept the worst of the impertinence to times when no one else was paying attention to their conversation.

But in spite of her being accustomed to Miyuki's failure to address her with all the proper terms of deference from a student to a sensei, it still caught her by surprise when the kid notched up the level of mischief several weeks into his second year at Seidou. Of course, it had everything to do with the first-year southpaw pitcher she had been so determined to recruit.

"Reiii-chaaan," Miyuki's teasing voice curled around her unexpectedly as she was walking alone past the equipment storage sheds one spring afternoon. "Don't you owe me a commission?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned to see the teenager lounging against the shaded side of the largest shed, tossing a baseball up and down in his right hand, his wicked brown eyes gleaming behind his wraparound glasses with every sentiment inappropriate for a 16-year-old.

"Why are you here when the rest of the team is training?" she asked in the neutral tone she had learnt to adopt with him for those occasions when she knew that attempting to sound stern would be of no use whatsoever.

"Well? How much is he worth?" Miyuki pressed on. "And what's my cut?"

"Miyuki-kun, you'll have to be more explicit about what you mean," she stated blandly as she adjusted her spectacles to fix a harder look on him. But naturally, she already knew what he was getting at – she knew him a little too well, it seemed.

"You totally pimped me out to reel in that noisy southpaw brat from Nagano prefecture, didn't you?" he chuckled. "I'm pretty sure he chose this place in the end because he'd had that delicious taste of _me_ as his first proper partner. And he's coming good bit by bit – not a losing proposition at all – so what's my cut for being whored out by you to help Seidou hook him?"

His words were deliberately calculated to shock, and on some level, Takashima was slightly taken aback by the blunt imagery. But on so many other levels, she barely blinked because… well, because it was Miyuki Kazuya, and if there was anything the boy worked almost as hard at as he did with baseball, it was mastering the art of convincing everyone he knew that he was the ultimate prick.

"Miyuki-kun," she said lightly, a barely-there smile touching her gloss-slicked lips. "I seem to remember that _you_ were the one who volunteered to _service_ the boy the moment Azuma-kun tried to do him over. In fact, I didn't even know you were there when I was showing him around our establishment – until you chirped up and _asked_ to have a go with him."

"Oh, come on, Rei-chan. You knew perfectly well that was my favourite hangout spot at the time – _especially_ if there was a chance I'd get to be entertained by Azuma-san ripping a new one into everyone around him. And you had to know I wouldn't be able to resist rolling the brat's balls around in my hand once you sold him to me as a very _interesting_ prospect," Miyuki responded, his grin growing.

"Although you've structured your argument to sound plausible on the surface, it's off the mark. However, even if there were any truth to it, I'd say that you've already taken your cut many times over."

"Eh?" Miyuki asked as a shade of curiosity crept into his grin. "Care to elaborate on that assertion, Rei-chan?"

"Let's see now…" Takashima smiled sweetly, adjusting her glasses again by a fraction of an inch before folding her arms and looking keenly at Miyuki. "You couldn't keep your hands off him the moment you set eyes on him – you were _all _over him, and I've never seen you voluntarily get quite so physical with anyone before or since. The boy's cuddly, isn't he? Merely copping all those feels with him squirming under your arm should have cost you a nice wad of yen, but there's more."

"Oh, is there?" Miyuki queried, keeping his grin very much in place.

"Indeed there is. You've been repeatedly using him to indulge your masochistic streak since day one. You've provoked Sawamura-kun over and over again since the new term began, knowing full well that he would grab you by the throat and shake you up a bit – and you _love_ that, don't you? Did you think I didn't know?"

Miyuki's grin was still intact, but it was losing a smidgen of its gleam.

Takashima went on: "In fact, Miyuki-kun, you're _starved_ of it, aren't you? Thanks to the prickly reputation you've taken such pains to polish, no one except for the excessively physically violent Kuramochi-kun ever tries to get rough with you – and even _he_ only dares to aim a kick at you once in a long while when you're being unbearably cocky. But Sawamura-kun is inexperienced and volatile, and you know you can rely on him to give it to you just the way you like it, without him realising that you enjoy it and that he should perhaps be charging by the minute for it. I'd say, therefore, that you've taken more than your commission already, and that it was nice doing business with you."

Miyuki stared at the assistant coach for a single silent moment, then burst into wholehearted laughter in his inimitable way, wrapping an arm around his midriff as if to hold his insides together. "Ha ha ha! I should have known I wouldn't be able to bully Rei-chan into stumping up some payment!"

She said nothing, only watched as he swiftly recovered from his amusement and shifted his eyewear back into place to make his next strategic move. It was one he hadn't made use of in a long time, but he had resorted to it once or twice when something she said to him hit too close to home and he couldn't immediately see an outcome to their argument that would favour him.

That move was to slide his pretty brown eyes down to her chest, and ogle her assets a little. It was something he had done as a mere child of 13, upon their very first meeting, and Takashima had known instantly that the boy, talented or not, was going to be a handful. To be fair to him, he had had the sense of decorum not to blatantly ogle her figure ever since becoming a student at Seidou, but once in a while, when he couldn't get the better of her, he'd resort to the tactic simply because he had seen her disapproving, red-faced reaction to his behaviour more than three years ago, and wanted to get a rise out of her.

"Rei-chan is as _ample_ as ever… in her reasoning," the teenager chuckled, finally dragging his eyes off her breasts to look her in the face again.

She'd become so good at handling teenagers that she no longer coloured when Miyuki did that, however pretty he might be. Indeed, she found it amusing that he would still try that move when he surely had to know by now that it was nothing short of conceding defeat to her.

"I'm glad you've noticed," she said matter-of-factly. "I have to be at the top of my game to herd a bunch of cats like the Seidou baseball team, especially when the cheeky Cheshire among them has set his sights on the wide-eyed new kitten."

"Nonsense," he laughed. "Kantoku has officially _partnered_ me with Monster Kitten and I like it that way."

"Monster Kitten-kun is extremely attractive in his own way, but he doesn't quite stir the heart the way the puppy-eyed koneko does, does he?"

"Now you're mixing your species up – make up your mind, Rei-chan."

"I can mix them up all I please as it's a regular zoo here. Seriously though, Miyuki-kun, tread with care. You're still neutral enough to be excited by every interesting pitcher who pairs up with you, and that's how it should be, but the child gets to you in ways others don't, and you're lucky you've only shown that to me so far."

"Eh?"

"When he insulted Chris-kun out of ignorance, the way you flew at him… of course I know that part of it had to do with how much you admire Chris, but the other part of it was because it was _Sawamura_ saying those words, aren't I right? Others have said worse things about people you deeply respect, and you've never lost control to the extent you did there. He does things to you, doesn't he, the bright-eyed kitty?"

"Huh," Miyuki scoffed. "Only you with your freaky capacity to see things where no one else can see them would say something like that."

"My freaky capacity to see things where no one else can see them is exactly what makes me such a brilliant recruiter, wouldn't you say? You were my first attempt at poaching talent for this school, after all."

Miyuki's naughtiest grin returned as he drawled: "Some eye you have for talent. You tried to reel me in even though I was _so_ underage. Paedophile."

"Pity for you then that you're much too old to interest this paedophile any more," she remarked before turning away from him to resume her brisk walk past the storage sheds to the coach's office. "But remember – watch your teenage hormones around Kawaii Koneko-kun."

"Teenage hormones?" he called after her, raising his voice a little to make sure she could hear every syllable over the firm thudding beat of her high heels against the dry dirt path. "I don't _have_ anything so mundane."

"The last thing I want is a massive catfight over Holler Kitty," she remarked, ignoring his last comment, without so much as turning her head. "You're not the only one who can't keep his hands off him, you know? Your precious Chris-senpai and only-friend-forever Kuramochi-kun are getting to be just as bad as you – and the child is still too sweetly stupid to charge _them_ a fee either."

She was no longer looking at him, but she took some pleasure in hearing the huff of breath he let out in response to her comment – it was meant to sound like his usual scoffing noises, but Takashima Rei, who knew him so well, could just hear in that huff the taint of annoyance and dawning realisation escaping to mist the spring air in front of Miyuki Kazuya's face.

* * *

**Note:** It's not my plan to give this story a strictly sequential or traditionally chronological plot. It will just be a chain of somewhat-intertwined chapters that look at things through the eyes of the adults at Seidou.


	2. Playing Ball

**Playing Ball**

* * *

In which Miyauchi Keisuke surprises the coach

* * *

Kataoka Tesshin was a decisive man. He wasn't always sure that his decisions were right, but he was certain it was his responsibility as a coach and teacher to make the best possible call at any given time so his students, players and assistant managers could move forward instead of waiting on a dithering leader. It was rare for him to sit on any matter for long, and rarer still for him not to know whether he should do or say anything.

However, an issue had cropped up, and Kataoka honestly could not tell if it would be better or worse to say anything or nothing, to address both the parties involved, one of them, or neither.

The problem was that when he had told Miyauchi Keisuke – the day before the three-header practice match with Inashiro Industrial and Shuuhoku High – that he wanted him to lead Kawakami Norifumi with a firm hand, the last thing he had expected was to have the somewhat eccentric catcher take it to mean that he should literally grab the flagging pitcher by the balls (and not the kind they were throwing to each other). During the game. On the mound. In front of the baseball teams and supporters of three high schools.

(Thank the gods that Oota-san had been busy elsewhere on the grounds at that moment, attending to Tanba, Miyuki and the rest of the other half of the team that would be playing Shuuhoku later – because the man was unhealthily attached to Kawakami, and if he'd been in the dugout at the time, he would have ruptured an artery.)

What made Kataoka's decision-making tougher was that the radical act had worked: Kawakami got a second wind, overcame his exhaustion to find his focus, and saw out the game. His initial yelp of horror at having his privates trapped for what eventually became a long, agonisingly public minute in the heavily-built catcher's iron grasp also seemed to be followed by what looked like gratitude for Miyauchi's extreme tactic of shocking him out of his self-pitying caving-in to fatigue.

But Kawakami was a sensitive boy who had always struggled with his confidence, and Kataoka doubted that having his family jewels caught in what looked suspiciously like a classic four-seam grip in the middle of a game would have the best impact on the kid's self-esteem.

What could Kataoka say, though? If Kawakami had processed the event and moved on, he did not want to resurrect it, or worse, word the discussion poorly so that the kid might misinterpret it as a message that having his testicles grabbed by another boy without his consent could be a cause for shame on his own part. On the other hand, he did not want him to believe that his coach and sensei would turn a blind eye to what could, in another context, be construed as sexual assault. It was hard to approach the subject in a counselling-room manner too, as if it wouldn't sound peculiar in every way to ask solicitously: "So, Nori, would you like to talk about how you felt when Keisuke grabbed your crotch?"

As for Miyauchi, he was unlikely to have acted with malice – and the move had succeeded, so Kataoka was not inclined to take him to task for it. The third-year had probably gone with his instincts, knowing that his coach too could be radical in his methods, and had simply used the most direct means he could come up with to tell Kawakami to be a man about the situation.

Kataoka found himself wondering if he should make a note of it in his training journals as a pitcher-revitalisation tactic. Or if he should ask Chris to make a note of it… no, Chris had probably already scrupulously jotted it down. Kawakami Norifumi would go down in Chris Memo history as the pitcher who'd been revived after his catcher had molested him in front of about a hundred people.

The coach decided to put the matter on the back burner for a while, until he'd sorted out the team's worries and initial uncertainty over the jaw injury Tanba had sustained in that same three-header. Some days later, when he returned to the Miyauchi-Kawakami problem, Kataoka finally settled for what he thought would only be a brief comment in passing to Miyauchi that he had done a good job with Kawakami, but that he should tone down his methods of encouragement in future.

"Why would I want to do that, Kantoku?" Miyauchi asked, with genuine curiosity and such an unwavering gaze that Kataoka knew he wasn't trying to be facetious.

They were alone in the corridor outside the staff room and had a few moments of privacy for a short conversation, so the coach replied: "Extreme tactics can backfire. Kawakami could have imploded instead of rallying. And if you did something similar to another pitcher – like Tanba – the term 'battery' would take on a new dimension, because he could well be shocked enough to punch you right through your face guard."

"Which I would accept as my just deserts."

"It's not only about how _you_ accept the consequences. It's also about the other player. It seemed to work on Kawakami. But if it had been a pitcher like Tanba – whom you know can be emotionally fragile – he would eventually blame himself for not only turning in a poor performance, but also by believing that he must have sent unconscious signals to a teammate that it would be perfectly acceptable to grope him."

Miyauchi took a quiet moment to process the coach's words, then punctuated the end of that moment with a bull-like huff through his nose before saying confidently: "No, I knew I could get through to Kawakami best that way. I handle every pitcher differently, Kantoku, even if you think my strategies aren't as sophisticated as Miyuki's. I wouldn't dream of grabbing Tanba's balls. Or the first-year pitchers'. I know very well that Tanba needs gentler handling despite his stony façade. Furuya, it would have no effect on – he probably wouldn't even react. Sawamura would go into hysterics, then sink into shock for a few hours before getting it out of his system by having bad dreams about me all night while Kuramochi kicks him to shut him up every time he screams. Kawakami, however, is extremely responsive in all the right ways – and I don't mean that in any filthy sense – plus, he only really cries when he thinks he's let the team down, not when he thinks he's being taken advantage of by his perverted senpai."

Kataoka had never heard so many words come out of Miyauchi Keisuke's mouth at one go. His first thought was to be impressed by the catcher's unexpected eloquence. His second was to acknowledge that the kid knew his pitchers better than others might give him credit for, so overshadowed was every other Seidou catcher by Miyuki Kazuya's genius. His third was to be surprised by the weightlifting-obsessed teenager's alertness to the potential double meaning of Kawakami's "responsiveness". And his next thought was to be disturbed by why Miyauchi might label himself perverted, or rather, why Miyauchi would imagine that Kawakami might consider him perverted – had he groped the second-year pitcher before? In private, perhaps? Or done something _else_ to Kawakami?

Kataoka asked cautiously: "_Does_ Kawakami think you were taking advantage of him?"

"No. It's taken care of, Kantoku. We've talked. He's fine. So don't worry – you won't have to deal with a mental breakdown from him any time soon – at least not one caused by my groping him."

"Good. And I hear you, Miyauchi – you think I don't appreciate your abilities, but I do. Every official match in high-school baseball is a must-win, and I admit that the strongest possible line-up I can put together means that you don't play as often as you may deserve to. But you are a brilliant catcher in your own right, and I am not blind to that. You may not have Chris' and Miyuki's inborn genius for reading a game as it develops, but neither do many other pro catchers in the top flight – instead, they've worked their butts off to learn how to read every batter, spot every tell, interpret every opposing team's mood, memorise the preferences of different umpires, analyse their own teammates' quirks, and build close relationships with their pitchers. You have confirmed in the course of this exchange we're having that you don't lack the ability to do all that and more, and your physical strengths have never been in question."

"So we should have talked a lot more before this, huh, Kantoku?" Miyauchi remarked, with a lift to the corners of his normally downturned mouth which reassured the coach that far from being bitter about playing second fiddle – first to Chris, then to Miyuki – the kid was positive about his future.

"It's fair to say that I should talk more to all my players. But I've always been better at leading by example than speech, and I imagine it is much the same for you – otherwise, you wouldn't have had to resort to seizing Kawakami's privates, would you, Miyauchi?"

The catcher let out another huff before quirking the corners of his lips again and remarking in a manner that was the closest Kataoka had heard him come to making a sly comment: "How do you know it was a last resort, Kantoku? Maybe it was something I'd been wanting to do for a while now."

Miyauchi then gave a quick bow and turned to go, sparing Kataoka the obligation of asking him if his expressed desire to fondle Kawakami was something his teachers ought to be sufficiently concerned about to counsel him for. (Once again, Kataoka thanked the gods that Oota was not present, or the club president would be grabbing the third-year by his blazer lapels by now, demanding to know what his intentions were towards Kawakami.)

Before Miyauchi got too far away, however, the catcher gave Kataoka something else to chew on. He stopped for a moment, turned around, and said off-handedly: "By the way, Kantoku, if it's groping you're concerned about, perhaps you should be more worried about how much other members of the team are pawing our lefty pitcher. They're not as overt about it as I was with Kawakami, but it's always the disguised acts you have to look out for, don't you think?"

Another polite bob of a bow, and the muscular catcher was round the corner and out of the coach's view.

_Sawamura?_ Kataoka thought. _Getting pawed? By other members of the team? Not the girls? Was he being violated? Was it damaging his pitching form? And Miyauchi… had he seriously just declared his sexual interest in Kawakami, or had that been a joke? _

"Why the hell are the other players groping the pitchers?" the coach growled under his breath as he returned to the staff room.

Curse it, but these teenagers and their all-over-the-place hormones were damnably hard to deal with. Incidents from years past that he'd had to handle as a teacher flew into Kataoka's mind: Players getting crushes on girls. Players getting crushes on boys. Players getting crushes on the staff. Girls and boys stalking the players they had fallen in puppy-love with. Sometimes it actually inspired the kids to play and study better. But often, it was a distraction – a source of too much fun or a cause of distress – that only damaged their performance in the longer term.

_Teenagers!_ It was time, Kataoka thought, to keep a sharper eye on the hormonal side of things.


	3. Bowled Over

**Bowled Over**

* * *

In which the canteen staff see what's going on

* * *

Managing the kitchen at Seidou High was nothing like running a minimalist public school canteen. In typical public institutions, students lived within walking or easy commuting distance, so they brought lunch boxes from home and ate them at their desks in the classrooms. Most cafeterias in such schools were thus equipped to cook and sell little more than snacks.

Seidou, however, was a different animal, and the manager of the catering team that ran its kitchen and three dining areas had known it from the start years ago, when her company was contracted to manage the food operations here. This famous baseball-focused school took in promising players from all over the country, housed many of them in the dormitories, and provided their full complement of daily meals.

Even those who weren't boarders, but were on the baseball team – about a hundred strong – ate every meal in the baseballers' canteen. Partly because the school wanted every player to eat well, and partly because of the gruelling training which ran from early in the morning until classes began, resumed three hours after lunch and went on into the evening. During term breaks, they trained from nine to six, then the demented ones trained some more, late into the night.

With such long and erratic hours from regular practice, intensive camps and matches with other schools, the baseballers had a separate eating area. The catering manager regularly reminded her staff how important it was to prepare highly nutritious meals for this lot of students, with an emphasis on proteins and carbs to give them enough energy. Food safety was crucial too – never was she, their boss, to be told that Seidou's star players had failed to make it onto the field because they were stuck in the loo with upset tummies from eating canteen grub.

The school also had a general cafeteria which sold lunch dishes and snacks to the rest of the students, many of whom were involved in activities linked to the baseball team, like band practice, cheerleading, logistical and managerial work. For this general eatery, the manager determined that meals must be nutritious and balanced, fit for active teenagers. Often, the baseball team's student-managers – a quartet of dedicated girls who reminded her of her own daughters when they'd been in their teens – would ask to use the cooked-food area in this eatery to make onigiri for the players slogging away on the training grounds.

The food meant for the general canteen was also served at the partitioned-off eating section for the teaching and administrative staff, with a few pricier extras, as adults could afford to pay more for their meals and had more sophisticated tastebuds than most kids.

So the caterers were kept busy. A number of years ago, the school had decided that it was unfeasible – and unfair to the catering staff – to have them on standby at unpredictable hours to serve the baseballers. It therefore became a practice in the players' canteen to have the kids on a duty rota to dish out the cooked items for their own teammates. It made sense, since the players' canteen didn't charge by the meal as the general canteen did – the school paid the caterers directly after charging each player a fixed fee every term for three daily meals. The canteen manager knew that Seidou generously subsidised this fee for students who were talented enough to be invited to join its baseball team, but whose families couldn't afford to enrol them in a private establishment like this.

One such kid was a first-year student from Nagano by the name of Sawamura Eijun. The caterers knew this because the boy had loudly and exuberantly declared his name and family background to them at his first stint behind the food counter during his first week at school. While they cleared trays from the general eatery and scrubbed pots in the work area next to the canteen, the lovable kid had gamely strapped on an apron, knotted a bandana over his head, and joined them several minutes before the crowd of players streamed in. He'd saluted the cook, chatted with the crew about their favourite old television shows full of samurai and shogun, amused them with his excitability and won them over with those wide eyes and that open face with not a shred of deceit in it.

Just like that, he became more than another figure in the crowd of teenagers for them. It was usually impossible for the canteen workers to bother with students' names – how could they remember so many, when kids came and went in a whirl of three short years? But as all seasoned adults employed in schools would tell you, some kids would always distinguish themselves in ways good or bad, and Sawamura Eijun was one of them.

Among the current lot in this canteen were a few others whose names the catering team knew. The third-year boy, Takigawa Chris Yuu, stood out for his good looks, unusual name and proper manners. Such a handsome youth, with beautiful, wavy brown hair and a lovely complexion, neither too ordinarily Japanese nor too strangely foreign – a perfect blend.

Also, the small-statured Kominato brothers – one from the third year, one from the first – with such fine, light-hued hair that it shone strawberry milkshake pink under the right lighting. Yet, unlike Chris-kun, these were _junnihon_ boys, and the cook's assistant had recently wondered aloud to her co-workers if their odd tresses were the result of dye jobs gone badly wrong when they were babies, courtesy of a mother who had probably wanted daughters. Or poodles.

From the second year, the bespectacled, good-looking Miyuki Kazuya was well known as the outstanding catcher who was so brilliant that he had been featured in sports magazines at a tender age, but was rumoured to be clueless about how to interact normally with other human beings off the field.

Miyuki was growing more notable to the caterers now, thanks to Sawamura-kun. As the staff took particular note of Sawamura in the canteen even when he was not on counter duty, they saw that the catcher was drawn to the boy. In Sawamura's earliest days at Seidou, when the other baseballers had treated him in a dismissive manner as a loud nobody, he had mysteriously attracted the attention of Miyuki the ingenious social misfit, who was generally friendly but close to no one, and usually had nobody to linger over a meal with besides his wild-child classmate – the wiry boy with the grating, cackling laugh. But early in the term, ignoring the convention of sitting with one's year-mates at meals, Miyuki had actually approached Sawamura to sit with him one day – and to the amusement of the caterers, another first-year boy, the tall, quiet one said to be from Hokkaido, had physically interposed himself between Miyuki and Sawamura.

Perhaps, suggested the assistant manager to her supervisor, the Hokkaido boy _liked_ Miyuki or Sawamura – or both. Teenage crushes were a funny thing, weren't they?

Then a few more weeks into term, the caterers found Sawamura on counter duty three days in a row.

"Sawamura-kun?" the manager addressed him. "Weren't you here yesterday? The duty rota says…"

"I swapped with Kanemaru, ma'am!" Sawamura announced brightly, gesturing towards a slightly bleached-haired boy who, the manager gathered, was the said Kanemaru.

"Why?" she asked, baffled, for most players treated counter duty as a chore, being worn-out enough from training.

Before Sawamura, who was turning red in the face, could yell out an answer, the manager's assistant drew her away from the counter and back into the kitchen, where they were busy marinating the diced chicken for the next meal.

"Shh…" her assistant whispered. "I think Sawamura-chan exchanged duties with his classmate so he could be extra-nice to Chris-kun again. I saw it yesterday and the day before, but I wasn't sure, so let's see if it happens again."

"The Takigawa boy?"

The assistant manager nodded, and they got back to work, but kept an eye on the queue of hungry players in the dining area. And when Takigawa Chris Yuu reached the head of the line, the catering team huddled in the doorway of the kitchen and watched as Sawamura proceeded to demonstrate how he felt about his third-year senpai by heaping his tray high with a mountain of rice and piles of meat and vegetables that overshadowed to a ridiculous degree the amounts he was dishing out for everyone else. Chris betrayed a tinge of pink high on his cheekbones, but otherwise accepted the offering quietly, instead of muttering in embarrassment as the assistant manager said he had a couple of days earlier.

Sawamura-kun, the manager realised, had a boy-crush on Chris-kun.

Miyuki seemed to take no interest in this, as he bent over his lunch as usual with his cackling wild-child classmate and occasionally checked that his first-year Hokkaido kouhai, whom he appeared to have been put in charge of mentoring, was eating properly.

But a few weeks later, Chris-kun started to return the food-affection. The Kanemaru boy was the go-between, handing Sawamura a heaped bowl of rice "from Chris-senpai", with the message that Sawamura must eat more now that he was training harder than before in the first string.

_Why didn't Chris-kun give Sawamura-kun the rice himself?_ the manager wondered. Until she noticed that Chris, who normally wore a brooding expression on his face, was bright-eyed, almost smiling, and struggling to maintain a neutral mien when Sawamura cast his huge, shining eyes on him in a flood of open gratitude. It would have been impossible for him to deliver the rice himself without losing that neutrality completely, because Sawamura split the room into two groups – the scowling ones who looked as if they wanted to stuff him into a large cooking pot with the heat on so he would actually have a reason for being so noisy, and the smaller group that fought to keep their faces straight because his big-hearted character made them want to grin like idiots.

Chris obviously fell squarely into the latter group, but as the adults knew, teens his age seemed to think they needed to project a serious image to be respected by others.

Having Kanemaru as messenger, however, made Chris-kun's gift of the bouquet… no, bowl... of rice more obvious to the others, and that was when Miyuki reacted. Each time the scenario occurred over the weeks that followed, Miyuki-kun would make an especial effort to pay extra attention to his Hokkaido charge, eyeing him like a grumpy bespectacled hawk as he ate, and prompting him to eat more. As if to distract himself from what was transpiring between his senpai and his other kouhai.

Honestly, if the canteen staff hadn't been experienced enough to have heard, for years, the constant admonition of senior players to their juniors to "make sure you finish three bowls of rice", they'd have thought the older kids were in a competition to fatten the younger ones up for the kill.

Speaking of killing, another player paid plenty of dangerous-looking attention to Sawamura-kun – Miyuki's cackling classmate, who was clearly wrestling-mad and singled out Sawamura for the most exotic moves. At first it looked like bullying, which got the adults' hackles up, but then it started to look like horseplay disguising a sort of warped affection. It gradually occurred to the caterers that perhaps, to the wiry wild child, love was all about twisting the extremely flexible object of his affections into a pretzel – without, of course, ever realising that he was wordlessly confessing: _I want to get my hands and legs all over you but I haven't the emotional vocabulary to say so in a normal way, so I'm just going to immobilise you with my best camel clutch hold. Squirm away beneath my body, Bakamura!_

The holds were evolving. They had begun at the start of term as clear-cut wrestling techniques, but increasingly, there were oddly un-wrestling-like moves, with the older boy sometimes even seizing Sawamura-kun's face. If he noticed that they had an audience, he would shift the hold so it seemed he was merely squashing Sawamura's cheeks to keep him silent. But the adults saw that before the grip shifted, it would often have started out with his fingers on the younger boy's chin, as if he unconsciously wanted to tip his kouhai's face up and…

… ah, but it hadn't got that far yet. Pity. Would have made quite a picture, that – horseplay transforming into foreplay – and Sawamura-kun's reactions were sure to be spectacular. Not to mention Miyuki's and Chris'.

The caterers also observed that, strangely enough, Sawamura himself didn't initiate physical contact – he never started the wrestling scraps with his cackling senpai, and seldom touched even his fellow first-years despite his frequent squabbles with the Hokkaido boy about some mysterious tyre and who would become the team's ace. But there was one exception to his mostly-hands-off behaviour – Miyuki.

The bespectacled boy had ways of winding up the younger kid that no one else was capable of doing to the same degree. A quiet word here and a smirk there, and suddenly, Sawamura would be flying at Miyuki, grabbing the older boy by the front of his shirt or sweater, and shaking him like a (solidly built) rag doll. It happened with surprising regularity, but despite Miyuki's fearsome reputation for possessing a set of powerful shoulders and arms that could fire deadly-accurate missiles from home plate clean across the diamond, the second-year never resisted but simply lapped it all up – Sawamura's growls, Sawamura's shaking, Sawamura's explosive protests about whatever had come out of Miyuki's prettily-shaped mouth to rile him.

He seemed… to be _enjoying_ it.

The catering manager had seen enough mealtime shenanigans to think she was jaded with it all, but she'd been mistaken. The scene was becoming watchable, thanks to the endearing Sawamura-kun, who had become a focal point for at least three boys who seemed to be struggling with the unwelcome knowledge that they might possibly be trying to get into another boy's pants. _Hmm,_ thought the manager, _the mix of items on the menu this year is looking quite tasty…_


	4. Protectiveness

**Note:** Oota is a teacher in this fic, although I can't be certain based on the manga alone that he actually teaches anything at Seidou!

* * *

**Protectiveness**

* * *

In which Oota Kazuyoshi overhears a few things

* * *

Seidou's baseball club president and team mentor Oota Kazuyoshi could not believe his ears. He had followed the boys to keep an eye on them, because he'd known something was wrong upon spotting them in the corridor with Kawakami Norifumi.

It would have looked ordinary to most teachers and students – a few second-years talking outside the classrooms after the final lesson for the day. But not to Oota.

First, he was particularly sensitive to anything involving Kawakami, as he felt deep empathy with the boy. They were more similar than the kid knew – like Oota himself when he was a teenager, Kawakami was doing well in sports despite not having been born with the most athletic build. He was also saddled with a pair of plump cheeks, which, in Oota's own experience, made it an uphill slog to be taken seriously by a lot of folks. On top of that, he was unassuming, good-natured, and a skilled sidearm pitcher worthy of the admiration of anyone who appreciated high-school baseball.

Second, the non-verbal cues had made the scene in the corridor look wrong. There were no obvious signs of bullying or anyone spoiling for a fist-fight, but it was odd, the way the other three boys were grinning while Kawakami's face remained expressionless and his shoulders tense.

Third, it wasn't like the pitcher not to rush off from classes to training. Those other boys – members of the baseball team too, although not active players in the first or second string – might take their time heading for the batting cages and gym, but Kawakami was always prompt about changing into his training gear and zeroing in on the bullpen to warm up with the catchers and other pitchers.

So Oota had slipped into the doorway of an empty classroom and spied on them from a distance. He hadn't been able to hear what they were saying from there, but his sense of discomfort only got worse when Kawakami looked at his watch and moved away, and the boys caught up and walked with him – they evidently had no intention of leaving him alone. Oota stayed far back so that if other students greeted him as he passed, the kids in front wouldn't be alerted to the fact that a member of staff was on their tail. He kept his distance until it got easier to close the gap once they entered the shorter, more winding passageways of the wing housing the labs. This was the fastest route to the changing room nearest the training fields; the rest of the baseball team had already passed through and left the building at least fifteen minutes ago.

It was in these quieter passageways that he heard one of the boys saying: "…so, Nori, are you going to let him fondle the rest of you too?"

_What was that?!_ Alarm bells went off in Oota's head. _Someone had fondled Kawakami? How? Where? When?_

"I've told you – it's nothing like that," came Kawakami's short reply.

"I can't believe we've only _just_ heard this – after all, only about a hundred people saw him grope your crotch, right?" chuckled another boy. "And no one here breathed a word to us just because we happened to be stuck in remedial classes during that match, after failing the last history test?"

A third boy added: "Yeah, it's incredible how I found out in the most roundabout way two days ago, only because my cousin's best friend plays for Shuuhoku, and they all saw what Miyauchi-senpai did to you."

_Miyauchi?! What had that Neanderthal done to Oota's sweet, innocent Kawakami? Why hadn't Kataoka-kantoku informed him about this?!_

"Of course, Shuuhoku and Inashiro probably just think it's one of those weird, radical Seidou-style motivational things like Sawamura's crazy way of yelling 'Boss!' at the coach in public, but _we_ know better, don't we?" the same boy continued.

"Miyauchi-senpai was just being his usual eccentric self. I told you – he didn't mean a thing by it," Kawakami said, a little irritably.

Oota could tell by the way their voices sounded that the boys had stopped walking. If Kawakami had stopped along with them, then they had to be blocking his path. With classes and even classroom-cleaning duties over for the day, the laboratories were empty – they were unlikely to be interrupted by anyone in a position to intervene on Kawakami's behalf.

"Come on, Nori."

"We're going to be late for practice," Kawakami protested.

"There's lots of time!" another of the boys laughed. "Give us the details already. What _else_ has he done? Has he asked you out? Kissed you?"

_Yes indeed – what else did that caveman do…?! _Then Oota pulled his screeching brain up short and mentally slapped himself, because this was not the time to be demanding answers of that sort. Kawakami was being harassed by schoolmates who were obviously gleeful about embarrassing him – this was borderline bullying, and Oota was going to put a stop to it at once…

"Oi." The low voice of another party sounded from the other end of the short passageway, which meant that someone else had come upon the group by approaching in the opposite direction from Oota. The voice was firm without being loud, and in that single grunt, conveyed an implicit threat.

Although Oota could not see them from where he stood, the shocked silence that fell over the group was palpable to him.

"M-Miyauchi-senpai!" one of the boys gasped after what felt like an eternity of three frigid seconds.

"Miyauchi-senpai…" a softer but no less surprised voice this time – Kawakami.

"No wonder you three can't make it even onto the reserve list of the second string if this is the kind of crap you waste your energy on," Miyauchi growled.

"Miyauchi-senpai! We were only–" the second boy ventured.

But the third-year catcher interrupted sternly: "Poking your nose where it doesn't belong? If you're so curious about my oddball behaviour, why don't you come over here and get a firsthand taste of it?"

Oota swore he could hear the popping sounds of powerful knuckles being flexed. It was sufficiently threatening to make him feel thankful that _his_ balls weren't the ones in the line of fire.

"I – we – we're sorry! We're leaving for practice now!" squeaked a discordant trio of panicky voices.

The rapid shuffling of feet signalling the hasty departure of the three second-years – whose balls no doubt had all shrunk to the size of peas – was followed by another tense silence which had Oota itching to leap out and whisk Kawakami away to safety. But Miyauchi was speaking…

"Are you all right?"

"I – I'm perfectly fine… how did you even know they were…"

"I've been keeping a close eye on you."

"What?"

"I'm sorry that what I did is causing you embarrassment," the catcher said gruffly.

"It's okay, Miyauchi-senpai," Kawakami replied lightly. "We sorted it out after our last talk, didn't we?"

"Yes, but I was reminded not long after our talk by someone slightly smarter than me that it's not only about how stoically _we_ take things on the chin – it's also about how other people may be affected."

Kawakami gave a nervous laugh. "I'm not bothered about what those guys think. You didn't mean anything by it, and if I can't handle a little teasing, how can I be expected to stand on the mound at Koushien in front of tens of thousands of spectators to pitch for Seidou?"

"Hmm. You're growing up, Kawakami."

"E – eh?" the second-year stammered, before going on awkwardly. "Ah – haha, I guess coping with teasing is as good a way of growing my confidence as any, huh? So don't worry about it – you don't have to swoop in to rescue me! Besides, Shirasu is usually with me – it's only that today, he had to go to the staff room to see the physics teacher about his assignment…"

"But it was my fault, and I don't want you to suffer for it."

"Ah, it's all right. Though it would have been funny to see you grope those fellows as well!"

"An empty threat. I'd rather drag my hand repeatedly over a cheese grater than grab those guys' balls."

"Huh…uhhh…?"

"You're the only one I could ever imagine touching that way."

"Ehhh?"

"Does that bother you?" Miyauchi sounded genuinely interested in the answer he would get to his question.

"Uhhh… I… senpai, I…" Kawakami's voice trailed off to nothing, which said it all, Oota thought.

"I see," Miyauchi remarked quietly.

"You see… what?" Kawakami asked uncertainly.

"Nothing. Forget what I said."

"Senpai?"

"Just regard it as meaningless rambling by an idiot of a musclehead," Miyauchi said briskly. "And if those guys harass you again, let me know – I'll drop my weights on their heads the next time they show their faces in the gym. Let's go for practice. Don't worry about being late – I'll tell the captain I was the one who delayed you."

"Miyauchi-senpai… I…"

This time, both Miyauchi and Oota waited several seconds for what Kawakami might wish to say, but no further words emerged. Neither did Oota hear any sound of movement from either boy. It seemed they were just rooted to their respective spots, waiting.

The silence was eventually broken by a familiar huff from Miyauchi, followed by the catcher saying: "You don't have to say anything, Kawakami. I hear you loud and clear. I'll never bring this up again. Time for training."

They left without another word between them that Oota could discern, and as the final soft scuffing sounds of their indoor shoes faded away, he let out the huge breath he'd been holding, exhaling the oxygen-depleted air along with his pent-up bewilderment about what was going on. He felt furious with Miyauchi for having – what was it – _groped Kawakami? During a game? The horror!_ One of the boys had mentioned Shuuhoku and Inashiro – did that mean it had taken place during the three-header? If it had occurred while Oota was away from the dugout with the other half of the Seidou team, why hadn't anyone told him what had happened to his gentle, defenceless Nori? And if Miyauchi was trying to protect Kawakami, why had the catcher just… good grief… had he really just confessed to the pitcher that he was _attracted to him_? How the hell would that help Kawakami feel better?

That idiot of a musclehead catcher!

Kawakami had said something about sorting it out after their last talk – which Oota figured must mean that Miyauchi had cleared the air with him previously, making Kawakami think everything was fine. Only for the catcher to _now_ drop the bombshell of…

"Oh, _well_ done, Miyauchi," Oota snapped out loud sarcastically, muttering to himself in the empty lab he had taken refuge in. "What on earth? 'You're the only one I could ever imagine touching that way'? Moron! And 'Does that bother you?' Does it bother him? What do you think, you idiot boy? Of course he rejected you – did you think he would accept you?"

He suddenly remembered where he was and realised he was on the verge of yelling to himself – Sawamura and Isashiki must be rubbing off on him, and not in the best way – as he heard other voices and footfalls from further down the corridor. He quieted his emotions and waited until the whispered exchanges, giggling and footsteps came closer. Soon, he heard a whisper: "Don't worry, I've got lab locking-up duties today, so I can just lock us both in!"

A girl's giggle was the answer to that statement, followed by more soft footsteps as they moved right up in front of the room Oota was in. He counted one-and-a-half beats before he pulled the lab door open smartly and stepped out into the passageway, startling the pair – a boy and a girl, as their voices had indicated. They were holding hands, and the boy had his other hand on the girl's bottom – they were obviously seeking a safe room for privacy to do whatever teenagers did with one another out of their teachers' and parents' sight.

The students jumped apart quick as lightning when he appeared, for they knew perfectly well that teachers and parents frowned upon dating until kids were at least of university-going age. And parents would complain loud and long to the school if they found out that their children were romantically involved with their schoolmates. Oota recognised these youngsters as second-years; their form teacher had recently mentioned having to counsel them when they were seen kissing on the street after classes. The boy wasn't on the baseball team, thank goodness.

"Oota-sensei!" the girl gasped in dismay. "We – we were just…"

It was practically an echo of how the three boys had panicked earlier when Miyauchi had appeared, and Oota sighed heavily. He looked at these two sternly and said: "If I catch you so much as brushing against each other again for the rest of the academic year, you'll be in a lot of trouble. Don't think I haven't heard about you two from Yamada-san."

"We're very sorry, Oota-sensei," the boy mumbled, darting nervous glances between his own feet and the teacher's stony face.

"Give me the keys to the labs – I'll lock up today."

"Yes, sensei," the boy murmured, handing the keys over.

"Go home at once and do some proper studying."

"Yes, sensei."

As they began shuffling away, Oota muttered under his breath, almost as a reflex: "Though at least you have the sense to grope someone of the opposite sex."

"Sensei…?"

"Never you mind. Get out of here, and stay out of trouble."

"Yes, we're leaving at once."

The pair scuttled off, leaving Oota alone again to groan and slap a hand over his eyes as he struggled mightily to decide whether it was worse dealing with the problem of boys dating girls and perhaps ruining Seidou's reputation if they went too far and a girl got pregnant, or the problem of boys growing interested in other boys, which would not result in any scandalous teenage pregnancies, but would be all kinds of scandalous all by itself.

Whatever the conclusion might be – and he was in no mood to think his way logically through to one right now – he decided that Miyauchi the moronic molesting musclehead was going to have a lot of explaining to do to him for violating his pure, helpless Kawakami.


	5. Comfort Zone

**Comfort Zone**

* * *

In which Takashima has some thoughts about Room 5

* * *

Takashima Rei had arranged to house Sawamura Eijun in Room 5 for a good reason: Kuramochi Youichi. The assistant coach's first visit to Sawamura's home had been an eye-opener in terms of the family's startlingly violent expressions of love, and the moment she saw Grandfather Sawamura knocking the kid clear across the living room in his tremendous affection for him, she knew which dorm room Eijun would occupy once she convinced him to take up Seidou's invitation. Because Kuramochi would make him feel right at home.

She had been sure the stubborn boy would be swayed in Seidou's favour. His parents, grandfather and childhood friends, especially that sensible, pretty girl called Wakana, knew a private Tokyo school was beyond his family's financial reach. But an invitation to enrol, coupled with the school's alumni-funded grants for talented players, meant the Sawamuras' expenses for Eijun's education, board and miscellaneous living expenses in the costly capital city would be less than what they'd fork out for tuition alone if they begged a good private school in Nagano to accept him. The latter would have been his only other realistic recourse after the brawl he had so impulsively started at his middle school's final baseball match.

He _had_ eventually been convinced to go to Seidou – but by Miyuki Kazuya more than any of the factors she had counted on. Miyuki had been the joker in her pack she hadn't known was lurking, waiting to be drawn, until he had announced his presence during Sawamura's visit to the school.

It had delivered the desired result. Seidou had acquired a valuable left-handed pitcher at a time when the team was mired in a pitching crisis. And he was settling in well after a rough start, no thanks to his rubbing the coach the wrong way on the first day of term. Through his plain dumb luck and endearing forthrightness, however, he had reversed disaster by somehow rubbing Kataoka the right way – while they were both stark naked in the bath.

Takashima smiled to herself as she recalled how, a couple of weeks ago, she had overheard Sawamura loudly recounting the episode to Kominato Haruichi in vivid technicolour near the vending machines, complete with the detail that _"… Coach Shades is hung like a horse, Harucchi!"_ – which the sakura-haired first-year had promptly declared horribly TMI. The younger Kominato had firmly ended the conversation there, adding that he, Haruichi, was now going to have bad visions of a disturbingly well-endowed and very naked kantoku playing on a loop in his head – "_Aagh, thanks a lot, Eijun-kun_!".

Takashima didn't mind images of a naked, hung-like-a-horse Kataoka Tesshin playing in a loop in her own head. The man was delicious – just her type – tall, muscular, no-nonsense, dangerous looking and baseball-mad. _But no mixing business with pleasure,_ she told herself. _Focus on the team._

Well, she had been right about the player-bonding mechanics in relation to Sawamura's rooming arrangements. Kuramochi was indeed giving him a familiar environment, with Masuko Tooru as a balance to ensure things never got out of hand (unless Sawamura ate his pudding). A few times, she had passed by their room when the door was held ajar by curious boarders watching Kuramochi punish Sawamura with some unbreakable wrestling hold – and the younger boy had coped as he had with Grandfather's attacks. He'd pulled faces, protested a bit (all right, sometimes a lot and very loudly) and flailed frantically, but otherwise let his flexible joints ease into the discomfort. In short, his psyche was perceiving Kuramochi as family – even his most outrageous attacks were being accepted as routine interaction.

Very different, wasn't it, from how shell-shocked he had been after Miyuki had flown at him for putting Chris down? Or how he had squirmed, scarlet-faced, when Miyuki had put his arm around him during his first visit to Seidou? In comparison with Kuramochi's extensive assaults, Miyuki had barely touched Sawamura – yet, Sawamura's reaction had been disproportionately intense.

Come to think of it, he didn't respond to anyone the way he did to Miyuki. Despite his adoration of Chris (the sort of crush that normally made teenagers hyper-self-conscious), he had been totally insensitive to his third-year senpai's private space. After he had learnt the truth about Chris' injury, the whole school had seen him pursuing the older boy in a bid to be forgiven, and it had quickly reached Takashima's ears how Sawamura had intruded on Chris' bath, lurked outside his toilet cubicle, and essentially made an irresistible pest of himself. If Chris had been a girl, it would have blown up into a case of sexual harassment faster than she could have snapped her fingers.

Ah… now she remembered that when Sawamura's grandfather had rung to inform her that Eijun would go to Seidou, the elderly man had been laughing about how his grandson had barged into Wakana-chan's bathroom the night before to announce his decision – while she was naked in the tub – totally oblivious to her need for privacy.

Putting away her files and leaving the staff room for the day, Takashima chuckled to herself as the pieces fitted together concerning this aspect of Sawamura's personality: the kid had no notion of self-consciousness, and scarcely understood what invasion of personal space meant. He wasn't naturally a touchy-feely boy, but he didn't make a big deal about being touched either, maybe because he had been conditioned by his family to be as stoic about physical contact as a non-stoic boy could be.

Except, of course, when it came to Miyuki.

Miyuki was someone to be grabbed and shaken in a temper, but not a person he felt it was safe to be touched by.

It wasn't because he disliked Miyuki – dislike wasn't the issue here. Even in the days when he had detested Chris, he had hardly reacted to Chris spending a good half-hour touching him all over at their first stretching session, except to grumble about how long it was taking as he wanted to pitch. But the older boy had carried on painstakingly examining his new charge's joints, registering potential points of weakness that could lead to injury if the kid wasn't careful. _Ah, Chris, you look as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, but you liked getting your hands all over that pliable body, didn't you? And it always amuses and bemuses you how innocently Sawamura takes it every time you plant your hands on his thighs and hips to help him find the points of balance and strength in his pitching form, and he fails to notice that you keep those strong catcher's paws on him longer than necessary…_

Outwardly, then, Sawamura regarded Kuramochi as a bullying older brother while having a crush on Chris and slogging for acknowledgement as a pitcher by Miyuki. But Takashima had just scratched the surface to deduce that the boy's subconscious had probably slotted both Kuramochi and Chris into the same category of harmless people who were on his side – like Wakana-chan, maybe. Or those monkeys famous in his home prefecture for soaking in the hot springs with humans in winter.

Whereas Miyuki was in some other class altogether – very likely sitting alongside the dangerous black bears which ambled out of the mountains to steal Nagano farm animals. A mental image of the bespectacled Miyuki in a bear suit, flexing fake claws and producing a pretend-growl shot into her head, and she nearly laughed out loud.

From the administration building, she walked towards the music room for a quick meeting with the bandmaster and the cheerleading coach about a parent's complaint regarding the appropriateness of the music played and one variation of the cheerleaders' costumes at a recent match. But first, she made a detour to the dorms. She was no longer concerned about whether Sawamura was adjusting – he was doing well. What worried her now was how Kuramochi appeared of late to be indulging in too much of a good thing – the cheetah who'd got the cream.

At the dorms, she found most of the doors closed. It was that time of evening after training, when the boys would take a quick shower to get the surface grime off (so schoolmates wouldn't gripe about how bad they smelt), then do homework in their rooms before dinner. Once they'd let the food digest, the hardworking ones would be back out there in the indoor training facility or gym, working on anything needing that one percent more of accuracy, strength, endurance or speed to make them a shade better for the next day, the next match, the next opportunity. Only after that would they wash thoroughly, soak in the bath, and settle down for the night.

Takashima suspected that though it was technically homework time, the occupants of Room 5 were doing anything but that. She was right. As she neared the closed door, she heard scuffling noises and thumps, accompanied by loud protests: "Ow – oww! Cheetah-senpai! St-stop that… hey – watch where you're putting your foot! – no no no, not the other foot too! Aagh!"

This was when Kuramochi would normally cackle like a hyena and tease Sawamura about Wakana or tick him off for putting himself forward. But this evening, only wordless grunts came from the second-year. It made her want to press her ear to the door to listen better, and she was leaning forward, trying to inch closer without letting the clicking of her high heels give her away, when…

"Takashima-sensei?" came a puzzled voice from a few metres behind her.

Damn. She'd just been busted by Masuko Tooru. Who must have nipped out to the snack vending machine.

"Masuko-kun," she said evenly as she straightened up and turned around, adjusting her spectacles with two fingers to the bridge.

"Good evening, Takashima-sensei," the big-built third baseman greeted her with some bewilderment.

"Masuko-kun, I heard alarming sounds coming from your room, and wanted to be sure that Kuramochi-kun wasn't actually murdering Sawamura-kun."

"Ah," Masuko said, clarity returning to his bulldog-like face as he swallowed her explanation. "They do that all the time – but don't worry. Sawamura-chan – er, Sawamura-kun – has never been injured because of Kuramochi's… sparring training."

"That's good. We don't want any casualties."

"I'll make sure no one dies," Masuko intoned seriously.

"I'm counting on you, Masuko-kun."

By this time, the other two boys had worked out that a teacher was outside, probably to complain about the noise, and the room door was flung open by a flustered Sawamura, a scowling Kuramochi right behind him.

"Takashima-sensei!" Sawamura yelled. "We apologise for the ruckus! It won't happen again!"

"Speak for yourself, _Uza_mura!" Kuramochi snapped at him. "_You_ were the only one making noise!"

"I was yelling at you to stop!"

"Yell politely next time and I'll think about it!"

"Playing with each other?" Takashima gave them a small, ironic smile, upon which she noted the flush of red appearing high on Kuramochi's angular cheekbones, while Sawamura dramatically but naively protested that there was nothing playful about being assaulted by one's senpai.

So she added another question, a non-rhetorical one this time: "Sawamura-kun, what offence did you commit this time to get Kuramochi-kun all over you?"

"That's what I wanted to ask cheetah-senpai!" Sawamura yowled, eyes going as round as a moggy's. "Senpai usually tackles me for being noisy, or impolite, or not giving him my phone to text Wakana, or out-gaming him, or –"

"In other words, just about anything," Takashima remarked.

"But this time, I didn't do anything other than yawn and stretch after one page of homework – did I, Kuramochi-senpai?!"

"The sight of you with your arms outstretched and your mouth wide open got Kuramochi-kun so worked up that he simply had to pin you to the floor," Takashima said flatly, arching an eyebrow at Kuramochi.

"Yes! That's exactly what… hmm… hey…" Sawamura murmured, shooting a slightly narrowed glance at his roommate as the wheels turned in his head and it began to occur to him for the first time that this might be at least a little bit unusual.

"Kuramochi-kun?" Takashima queried.

An embarrassed scowl from the cheetah was followed by a growled-out answer: "Yawning so loudly and stretching so excessively after a grand total of five minutes of homework is asking for it if he isn't putting in serious effort not to waste baseball practice time by getting stuck in extra classes like Furuya for failing his tests."

"Hey! Just because I –" Sawamura objected, ending the turning of wheels in his head as he swallowed the predator's reply hook, line and sinker, as quickly as Masuko had imbibed Takashima's reason for having her ear to the room door.

"I'm very sorry, Takashima-sensei," Masuko quickly bowed to her. "I'll keep both my kouhai in line."

"Yes, please," the assistant coach said. "But I do understand that boys need some non-baseball-related release for their… frustrations, shall we say?"

She looked straight at Kuramochi, and her suspicions were confirmed as the flush on his cheeks deepened. Ha! That kid – he'd always been as impressed by her breasts as Miyuki and Sawamura were, and everyone knew he was forming a long-distance crush on Wakana-chan via Sawamura's mobile phone – but he was turning out to be a switch hitter through and through. Batting left and batting right… like Miyuki batting left and throwing right… or maybe, Takashima thought, _she_ was to blame – after all, she had recruited these boys. Perhaps she had an eye not only for talent, but also for kids who would first ogle her cleavage, then progress to fondling one another. (Except Chris-kun, of course – he'd been too proper to leer at her, but had simply gone straight to getting his hands all over Sawamura.) How coincidental that the three most outstanding senior boys she had personally brought in – Chris, Miyuki and Kuramochi – were taking a keen interest in the most recent kid she'd secured.

_I've unconsciously chosen players who naturally have terrific chemistry with one another,_ she thought as she walked away from the dorms. _Not good – we can't risk a catfight over one clueless kitten. But maybe, just maybe, all this hormonal madness will give the team an extra kick of energy?_

It didn't escape her notice that Miyuki had arrived at the corner of the adjacent dorm wing two minutes ago. Against her sense of professionalism, it nearly made her laugh. The kid had half-concealed himself in the stairwell entrance, and the glimpse she had of his face told her he was torn between being entertained by how _interesting_ this whole Room 5 set-up was, envying Sawamura for his roommate's tasty abuse, and wanting to throttle all the snark out of his only-friend-forever Kuramochi Youichi for being perfectly placed to get intimately familiar with every inch of Sawamura Eijun's body.


	6. All In The Head

**All In The Head**

* * *

In which the principal's imagination runs wild

* * *

Strolling about in a suit while waving a paper fan and being escorted everywhere by his gangly second-in-command had its drawbacks. The principal of Seidou High knew it made him look every inch the caricature of an administrative buffoon. It also meant that people could spot him and his shadow a mile off, so he rarely saw their real side – kids and teachers would be on their best behaviour. Except, of course, for the unholy duo of Kataoka Tesshin and Takashima Rei. Those two never altered their demeanour regardless of his presence.

But the costume of suit, fan and sidekick was also an advantage, because when he shed it, he seemed to become invisible. Once a month, usually in the evenings, he would put his paper fan away, give his vice-principal the slip, exchange his loafers for running shoes, pull on a black baseball cap with no logo and a pair of glasses with non-refractive lenses, and don an anonymous dark windcheater of the sort that the school security and maintenance crew wore. Only the security staff knew in advance about these inspections, and left him alone to move around with a borrowed bag of tools to aid his thin disguise.

He was pleased that most of the misbehaviour he'd spied so far was minor. He himself was an old boy, and the place was much as he'd remembered it as a student – yes, some rule-breaking went on, but it was heaven compared with the terrible tales of misdeeds at certain public schools (awful incidents that made salacious headlines, drew police cars to the gates, and had members of the public bemoaning the distressing state of Japanese youth in this day and age).

Seidou was different. In such a sports-obsessed establishment, every student knew how strict the baseball federation governing the game in high schools was. The entire team could be thrown out of the tournament and barred from any hope of sniffing the air near Koushien for the rest of the year if a serious scandal was linked with the school.

The principal's biggest dream was to see Seidou's name in nice, big headlines as the institution that had returned to its glory days by reaching – and better yet – winning the tournament at that hallowed ground. But until that happened, his worst fear was that under his watch, Seidou would make the wrong headlines – the kind that would ruin the team's hopes of participation if students were caught taking drugs, or getting involved in gang fights, or if a player was accused of getting a girl pregnant. Even the widespread adult habits of smoking and drinking – so socially acceptable in this country – were taboo for students and treated like a crime by the Japan High School Baseball Federation.

Thus far, however, little had happened to justify his fears. His primary realistic worry, in fact, was that the boys would drop dead from overtraining one of these days.

The rest of the students who weren't players hailed largely from good families that could afford to send them to a private school where they would feel encouraged by how much better their grades were compared with those of the nutters who ran around all day swinging bats, waving mitts and staring hard at catchers' crotches to read mystifying finger signals. And the teachers were always carefully handpicked. As a result, the bulk of the issues that cropped up with the general school population were negligible, nothing that couldn't be dealt with in counselling sessions.

As for the baseballers, the kinds of trouble they gave him were what he called "good problems". They wore down equipment, broke bats while thwacking the balls to shreds, fell asleep in class because they'd trained too hard, put holes in the dorm ceilings when they tried to practise pitching in their rooms at three in the morning, argued heatedly about strategies, got raucous after winning tough matches, sometimes needed group counselling after losing games, and individual counselling when they weren't picked to start a game.

Nothing that would destroy the school's reputation. No time to join gangs and engage in knife-fights. Barely enough time left over to think about girlfriends, much less impregnate them. And too smart to smoke (unlike their demon of a coach these days). Definitely too smart to do drugs.

This was the familiar domain the principal had overseen for years, and he hoped that even when games couldn't be won, school discipline, at least, would remain good. Still, he liked to continue making his incognito rounds, to keep his eyes and ears close to the ground. He trusted Kataoka and Takashima to give their utmost to the team, but he was sometimes nervous about their radical methods and leap-of-faith choices.

Among the unnerving decisions Takashima had made in the past couple of years had been accepting students who had been in trouble in middle school for brawling – Kuramochi Youichi the shortstop who'd enrolled last year, and Sawamura Eijun the southpaw pitcher who'd entered this year. Takashima had assured the admissions office that the boys had had honourable intentions in starting those fights and had learnt their lessons well, but the principal had been on tenterhooks until each of them had played a few games for Seidou and shown no signs of wanting to trigger a massacre. In fact, they'd become valuable members of the first string. So his fear that he would see the headline "SEIDOU THROWN OUT FOR BRAWLING AT KOUSHIEN" had receded significantly.

Well, Takashima was a fearless devil whose motto seemed to be that any strategy which worked was fine as long as no one blabbed about what rules might have been bent to get it done; and Kataoka… hmm, the principal confessed to himself that Kataoka made him nervous, and he would be able to stomach the scary-looking fellow a lot more easily if he would only get the damned team to Koushien.

On this particular inspection walkabout – at night, as he hadn't checked on the boarders for months – the principal had just nodded to the security guard at the periphery of the area leading to the dormitories when he saw a shadowy figure slinking along the ground-floor veranda of the block furthest from him, a pillow under its arm. The figure stopped at one of the rooms and looked around as if to check that no one was following, and that backward glance cast light on the eyeglasses and well-formed features of catcher Miyuki Kazuya. From a previous dorm visit, the principal vaguely remembered that Miyuki's room was an upstairs one, so why was he downstairs with a pillow at this hour? Sleeping over in someone else's room? Why? Had that boy sneaked a girlfriend in and borrowed a pillow for her…?

He kept to the shadows and watched as Miyuki entered the room he'd stopped at and shut the door after him. The principal moved cautiously towards that block at the far end of the yard, but as he approached, he was distracted from Miyuki's odd behaviour by strange noises coming from upstairs.

The closer he got, the greater his alarm grew, for it sounded frightfully like an S&amp;M orgy in full swing. He tiptoed up the stairs and inched his way along the open-sided corridor towards the only room in that stretch with its door open, light from within spilling out onto the walkway. He was now sure it was Miyuki's room – had the catcher vacated it so others could run wild? Grunts interspersed by gasps were what he heard first. Then strained noises and heavy breathing reached his ears. A few more tiptoed steps down the corridor, and words took shape:

"Ah – aahh – _nggh_ – don't push your fist in – I can't breathe!"

"Stop squirming – I'm not done with you," was the sharp, growled-out reply. "And if you can't breathe, you shouldn't be able to talk either, _Baka_mura – so I should push a little harder… like _this!_"

"Aaagggh – hhhnngh – n-no – no, don't – gah! – didn't Takashima-sensei tell you off for doing this to me for no reason?"

"Heh – this time I have a reason."

"Nnngghhh – stop pushing! That's just sick!"

"It will get a lot sicker if you're cheeky to Tetsu-san again! Good enough reason for you?"

A third voice said sternly: "Hey, don't kill him before I've finished playing with him. I was just making my move when you grabbed him, you know."

As the principal shifted closer to the open doorway, a fourth voice and then a fifth became clearer:

"Is this how you like it, Isashiki-senpai?" was the soft, low query he heard.

"Harder," came the snappish reply.

"I'm trying."

"Harder! It doesn't feel good yet."

"Like this?"

"Higher up – higher – ahhh – right there."

"Here?"

"Faster, Furuya – don't you have any damn stamina?"

"Hrrrgh…"

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me!"

"Ah – I'm sorry, senpai."

Somewhere above all that, the principal heard somebody snoring (exhausted from too many rounds of whipping someone else into obedience, perhaps?), and others yelping and snarling.

Just as the dreadful headline "SEIDOU BOOTED OUT OF TOURNAMENT FOR PLAYER ORGY SCANDAL" appeared in his imagination and made him break out in a cold sweat, he put his head cautiously round one edge of the door frame, and…

… oh thank all the gods that had been listening to his pleas, because the grunts and gasps were only coming from Kuramochi and Sawamura, locked in a wrestling hold in the middle of the floor with Kuramochi's knuckles shoved deep into one half of Sawamura's nose and mouth.

The one who hadn't finished "playing" with the victim was captain Yuuki Tetsuya at the shougi board, presumably waiting for Sawamura to return to the game, preferably in one piece.

Vice-captain Isashiki Jun was having his legs massaged by the monster rookie, Furuya Satoru, who appeared to be putting little into the exercise and getting scolded for it.

A mound of flesh and muscle that – the best he could tell from this angle – looked like the large third baseman Masuko Tooru, was snoring loudly on one of the beds, dead to the ruckus going on around him.

And at the far end of the room, with their backs to him so he couldn't see their faces, were another two boys growling as they battled each other in a fast-paced video game.

The principal's legs went wobbly with relief as he quickly retracted his head before he could be noticed and inched away back downstairs. Ah, if those horrifying noises had turned out to be nothing incriminating, Miyuki couldn't be up to anything wicked either. To put his nervy mind completely at ease, he found the downstairs room he had seen the catcher sneak into with his pillow – Room 5, it turned out to be – and the names slotted into the _nafudakake_ outside were… of course: Masuko Tooru, Kuramochi Youichi and Sawamura Eijun. If all three had invaded Miyuki's room, it was no wonder the boy had decided this would be the best place to get some shut-eye as it was guaranteed to be empty.

The principal turned the handle carefully, opened the door a crack, and flashed his torchlight into the darkness to see Miyuki fast asleep on the lower bed of the double-decker bunk, hugging one pillow and drooling into another. He switched off his flashlight, closed the door quietly and breathed easily again. He spent a further twenty minutes inspecting the rest of the area and found nothing amiss. Satisfied, he started walking away from the dorm blocks along the unlit, tree-lined side path that ran closest to the administration block.

All was well. Everything was good. Such decent boys they had on their baseball team. No ghastly newspaper headlines. No scandals. No…

"…just what made you think he wouldn't be teased once you grabbed his crotch in public?" came a deliberately hushed but clearly angry voice coming from behind the side wall.

The principal stopped dead in his tracks as the voice and those damning words reached his ears. He couldn't see the speaker as he couldn't look through walls, obviously, but there was no mistaking Oota-san's voice.

_Who had grabbed whose crotch in public?_ the principal wondered in a panic as the headline "SEXUAL PREDATOR IN SEIDOU" screamed in his head.

"I'm sorry, sensei," came a gruff reply to Oota's angry questions.

The principal could not put a face to that voice right off the bat, but he stayed stock-still under a tree and continued listening.

"I can't believe you first sorted things out with him after that incident and made him think everything was well, only to blindside him with your declaration!" Oota chided the mysterious party he was conversing with.

"The way I did it was really stupid of me," the person admitted frankly.

"Yes it was!" the teacher snapped. "And why the devil are you agreeing with everything I say?"

"Because you're right?"

"Aarrgh, Miyauchi, you are the limit!"

_Miyauchi? As in third-year catcher Miyauchi Keisuke?_ The principal asked himself, startled. _Whose crotch did Miyauchi grab? Why didn't anyone _tell_ him these things? _

"I will make things right with Kawakami, I promise," the student murmured.

_Kawakami Norifumi?_

"I think we've already seen how your attempts to do _that_ turned out!" Oota snapped.

"No, Oota-sensei – I think it's better for him to know the truth and deal with it, then move on. I should have been more tactful about it, but I shouldn't have hidden it from him in the first place."

"Some things are better hidden!"

"I thought so too at first, but I've changed my mind."

"Why are you disagreeing with me now?"

"Because you're wrong this time?"

Before the principal could hear any more of that exchange, a commotion erupted from Room 5. "MIYUKI KAZUYA! WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING IN MY BED?!" came Sawamura's ear-busting bellow. "YOU'RE DROOLING INTO MY PILLOW!"

"Oi, Miyuki!" snapped Kuramochi from the doorway. "Get off Sawamura's bed and get back to your own room!"

Scuffling noises from inside culminated in three figures tumbling out onto the veranda – Miyuki, laughing hard, trying to hook his spectacles back over his ears while clutching two pillows; Sawamura attempting to wrest one of the pillows from him; and Kuramochi trying to pry them apart.

Still laughing, and obviously half-asleep, Miyuki slurred: "It's _my_ pillow I was drooling into, Sawamura – _yours_ is the pillow I was hugging."

"Shit! That was mine? You even had a leg swung over it! Why the hell were you hugging my pillow in my bed?" Sawamura demanded, switching his grip to the other pillow as he tried to snatch back his property.

Miyuki, apparently completely drunk on sleep, stopped pulling back and allowed the pitcher to yank him all the way forward, then leaned right into his face and purred: "Mmm… because _you_ weren't there in your bed with me, Sawamura…"

"Aaaagh!" Sawamura yelled, letting go of the pillow abruptly and shoving Miyuki backwards in the same motion, throwing him against Kuramochi in the doorway.

"Dammit, Miyuki!" the shortstop growled, catching him to keep them both upright. "Wake up! You're bloody sleepwalking, aren't you?"

"Nope," the catcher stated breezily. "Totally awake. Totally taking Sawamura's pillow back to bed with me."

"Hey, give that to me," Kuramochi snapped, tugging at his roommate's pillow himself. "And yeah, we're sorry we invaded your room, but humping Sawamura's pillow is just too much, man."

"Why?" Miyuki grinned, leaning over right into his classmate's startled face this time. "Jealous much?"

"Ugh! Miyuki Kazuya!" Kuramochi roared, sounding awfully like Sawamura as he, too, shoved the catcher away from him.

"Give me back my pillow!" Sawamura yelled, but without trying to make any more physical contact with Miyuki.

"If you come to bed with me we can share the pillow…" the catcher propositioned.

"What's going on?" came a soft but stern voice from the end of the veranda, as Takigawa Chris Yuu stepped out of the shadows.

"Chris-senpai!" Sawamura wailed.

"Chris-senpai!" Miyuki hailed him cheerfully at the same time. "Come to make a foursome? We can _all_ sleep with Sawamura…"

Chris stepped up to the trio, smartly plucked the pillow Sawamura pointed at out of Miyuki's arms and tossed it to the first-year before seeing him and Kuramochi back into their room just as Masuko Tooru came stumbling along, rubbing his eyes, and sparing Chris and Miyuki a bleary glance before shutting the door after himself and his roommates.

It left only Miyuki and Chris facing each other on the veranda – Chris wearing a stern expression and Miyuki sporting a smirk. Then Chris turned on his heel and headed back upstairs without another word.

Miyuki, left alone, laughed to himself for a good while before straightening his glasses, tucking his pillow under his arm, and likewise heading upstairs. The principal watched from where he stood as Chris' door on the second level clicked shut so the third-year could retire for the night in the hope of not being disturbed again. A minute later, Yuuki, Isashiki, Furuya, someone who looked like reserve shortstop Nakata Ataru and another boy left Miyuki's room just before the catcher entered and shut his door too, cutting off the spill of light into the upstairs corridor.

The noise had obviously chased Oota and Miyauchi away to some other spot to continue their argument about molesting and such, and the principal found himself standing alone in the darkness under the tree, in a renewed state of shock as the headline shouted loudly in bold letters in his mind's eye: "SEIDOU TEAM IN MOLESTATION AND GAY GROUP SEX SCANDAL".

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.


	7. Coming Clean

**Coming Clean**

* * *

In which Kataoka bares all

* * *

Honestly, Kataoka wished he could say: "Chris, sit them down and make them work it out." Because this wasn't his thing at all. He was a direct man. The only nuances he'd ever been comfortable with were those he could read on the baseball field. On that battleground, it was exciting to interpret people, predict what was going through their minds, work out how they were feeling, and figure out how to use it against them.

But this wasn't baseball.

This was about _other_ kinds of emotions, motivations and desires. Not his territory. He truly wanted to have Chris solve the problem – keep it among the students – kids had ways of working these things out themselves. However, he'd been observing the players since Miyauchi's heads-up about Sawamura getting pawed, and he wasn't sure that the look in Chris' eyes was entirely… _objective_ when it came to Sawamura.

He shouldn't involve Yuuki. The captain's uncomplicated personality made him the wrong kid for handling this delicate issue.

He couldn't hand it over to Takashima either, because that bloody woman was having a _laugh_ in secret over the whole accursed hormonal mess. She thought no one could tell she was chuckling to herself about it, but Kataoka knew her darn well, and he could see the hilarity all over her suppressed smirk.

Oota? Forget it. The man was having kittens over his "vulnerable Kawakami", and wouldn't manage this in a detached way.

Unfortunately, that left Kataoka.

The principal had had a word with him in his office this morning, saying: _"…the things I heard and saw last night initially left me shaken. However, in the clearer light of day, I'll admit I may have got too worked up over very little – the boys were probably just horsing around. I've spoken to Oota-san about Miyauchi and Kawakami, and he has assured me that no malice was involved, and Kawakami is fine. Still, I want to be cautious about what could happen to the team's and school's reputation if things were to blow up. Please ensure that Kawakami and Sawamura aren't feeling victimised by their seniors – I don't want it to develop so that the younger boys' parents end up marching into my office to demand explanations I'll hardly know how to give…"_

Kataoka had apologised to the principal on behalf of the culprits, and promised to talk to the boys concerned. Privately, he thought the head of the school would be sweating a good deal more if he knew what Kataoka knew. There was Kuramochi to worry about, and Chris, not to mention the other rivalries and jealousies that would normally have just carried on in a holding pattern for the rest of the year if only Miyuki and Miyauchi had simply _not acted on their feelings_. Tanba, for one, was close to Miyauchi and had an entirely different kind of special relationship with Chris; it would all get messier – fast – if the ace figured out what those two had on their minds with respect to their younger teammates.

The game with Akikawa had taken place a few days ago, and their next opponents would be Yakushi, whom they knew very little about. He couldn't have the players refusing to function as a team at this time.

But this really wasn't his forte.

So he let it percolate – literally – by steeping himself in the hot bath late at night on the day the principal had spoken to him. He'd gone for a long, hard run all over the school grounds, and surprisingly had not spotted Sawamura doing the same – he must have been in the indoor facility, or back at the dorms fending off Miyuki's overtures, probably with Kuramochi valiantly defending his virtue. _Fox guarding the hen house._

Kataoka would have liked to run into Sawamura tonight to have a casual word with him, without subjecting the kid to the discomfort of a structured meeting. If he would only walk into the baths right now as he had that night during his early days in the school, when he was barred from training with the team, he might be able to get something out of…

Ah. Maybe the universe was humouring him at this difficult time, because it was déjà vu – there Sawamura was now, striding from the changing area into the bathing zone as he had that night three months ago. And all over again, the kid startled and froze like a deer in the headlights at the sight of the coach sitting in the bath, making it just the two of them naked in a confined space.

Perfect, thought Kataoka. Nothing like baring it all in a bath to expose what was really on someone's mind.

Sawamura mumbled an awkward greeting which the coach returned with a nod before the kid seated himself at one of the shower stations to shampoo and scrub off all the sweat and grime from his late-night training. Then he rose, holding the minuscule towel before him, mumbling something about "…think I'll skip the bath tonight…", probably thinking that two times soaking in 40-degree-Celsius heat with his coach was two times too many.

"Sawamura," Kataoka called firmly. "Get in."

The boy looked as if he was about to have a stroke. But after working his facial features into a comical twist for a few seconds, he produced another mumble of acquiescence and shuffled towards the bath.

In a regular public _onsen_, Kataoka would have kept his eyes to himself – or, if he _had_ to talk to someone, would have strictly maintained eye contact – but he was this team's coach, and he habitually ran his eyes over his boys in training to see how they were coming along. He didn't hesitate to run his eyes over Sawamura now – wearing tinted glasses at all times meant people usually couldn't see where he was looking.

The kid's body was developing nicely. Compared with how he'd been in spring, he was better toned, muscles firming up in the right places, thighs and shoulders building up well, without appearing to hamper any of his trademark limberness. He'd turned 16 two months ago, and probably wouldn't be adding any more – or at least not much more – height to his frame, but those muscles and ligaments would continue strengthening in the proper ways for the sport he loved if he kept training well.

Sawamura stepped gingerly into the bath and ducked into the furthest corner from Kataoka. They were definitely on much better terms now than when the pitcher was in the doghouse in spring, but these were still awkward conditions for the boy. So much for hoping to spare the kid the pressure of a structured meeting. Well, no help for it now. He would simply have to get to the point.

"Sawamura," Kataoka rumbled, making him jump.

"H-hai, Kantoku?"

"What happened with Miyuki at the dorm last night?"

_Mumble, mumble, _went the kid.

"Speak up."

"…that bloody Miyuki _mumble mumble…_"

"I can't hear you."

"…violATED THE INNOCENCE OF MY PILLOW!"

Too loud, too emotional, too _much_. But that was Sawamura for you. Loud, emotional, and _too much_ of everything – which made him a great kid to train and guide and watch as he bloomed. But he was also too dense and too… what was the word for it? Unsullied – almost _pure_, if Kataoka had to force a label on him. And that made it doubly challenging to talk about this – the coach was handicapped both by his own ineptitude with personal counselling, and by the boy's naivete. He made a swift decision: He would venture one exploratory question about the matter, and if Sawamura had no idea what he was hinting at, he would take it that he was untraumatised, and then they could go back to baseball.

"Is it really about the pillow?" Kataoka asked.

"Of course it's about the pillow," Sawamura said without a trace of prevarication, as he threw the coach an utterly open, thoroughly puzzled look – the first time he had looked directly at him since entering the bathing area. "How do you even know about the pillow anyway, Boss?"

That was it. The kid didn't have a clue. For a second, Kataoka actually felt slightly sorry for Miyuki for picking such an obtuse target. But he wasn't here to play matchmaker on the catcher's behalf – quite the opposite – so he returned at once to baseball matters, saying: "Never mind how I know. You refused to pitch to Miyuki while training in the bullpen today. That's a first. Putting the pillow aside, is this going to be a problem for the team?"

Sawamura's head snapped up, and the usual blazing look in his eyes returned as he declared: "No, Boss! It won't be a problem! I'm not going to _not_ pitch to him forever. I'm still annoyed with him for weirding me out last night, but it won't be a problem for the team!"

"Good. No personal disagreements between players should affect the team's workings, especially during games. To ease the tension in the battery for now, I'll have you train more with Miyauchi until the Yakushi game, so you and Miyuki don't get under each other's skin too much in practice."

"Miyauchi-senpai is cool!" Sawamura exclaimed, lighting up. "And Chris-senpai – that means I can train more with Chris-senpai too!"

Kataoka hesitated even as he suppressed another twinge of sympathy, this time for Chris. Obviously, the boy hadn't observed the way the third-year looked at him either. But if Kataoka tried to reduce his training time with his favourite mentor, it might draw Sawamura's attention to what had been going clean over his head, which would bring its own problems. As for Chris, he hadn't acted on his feelings, as far as Kataoka knew.

"You can train more with Miyauchi and Chris. Chris will supervise any training you do with Miyuki."

"Yes, Boss!" Sawamura yelled, throwing his arms up and kicking his legs out in glee – only to bang his right foot against the wall of the bath at an awkward angle, triggering a muscle spasm.

How absurd was that? Cramping in a hot bath? Hot baths were supposed to _ease _ cramps. It couldn't happen to anyone except this clumsy boy.

"Give me your foot," Kataoka ordered.

But Sawamura, speechless from the pain, couldn't move, and Kataoka had to wade over, grab his leg, and lean in to flex his ankle and knee against the spasm, trusting that the heat of the bath would keep the cramp from worsening.

Right then, he heard the sounds of another person entering and stripping off in the changing area, which was out of the direct view of the bath.

"Sawamura, is that you in there?" called the person. "Miyuki asked me to make sure you and Furuya actually bathe properly for once after training – Furuya's fallen asleep on the floor of his room and I can't shift him, but I need a bath myself and…"

It was Kawakami. Kataoka didn't know whether to laugh or weep when the second-year entered the bathing area and fell silent in Sawamura-style deer-in-the-headlights shock at the sight of the coach, naked in the bath, gripping the equally naked first-year's leg and leaning over the boy.

_It's not what it looks like,_ was the first thing Kataoka instinctively wanted to snap out at the second-year pitcher. But years of practice concealing everything on the baseball field from opponents – from nervousness to plain fear, glee to smugness, disappointment to devastation – gave him the composure to growl: "Kawakami, come here and hold Sawamura up. He has a leg cramp."

"H-h-hai, Kantoku!"

It was already an absurd tableau – a naked man flexing the leg of a naked boy while another naked boy held on to the kid by his underarms to keep his head from tipping under the water. But Sawamura had to make it even sillier by finally recovering from the pain enough to gasp out at Kawakami as if with his dying breath: "Nori-senpai! Tell that rude Miyuki Kazuya that the way Furuya and I bathe is none of his business!"

"Better now?" Kataoka grumbled.

"Yes, Boss! _Arigatou gozaimashita!_ No damage done – just hit the wall at a funny angle!"

Kataoka released his leg, and Kawakami fled to the shower area for a hasty scrub-down, no doubt clean forgetting his assignment from Miyuki to – what was it? _Make sure Sawamura washed properly?_ Kataoka almost felt a spasm coming on himself – although it would be confined strictly to his face and his brain – as he processed the information that Miyuki Kazuya had been _paying attention to the way the first-year pitchers were washing themselves in the bathing facility_.

Bloody hell. He needed to have a word with Miyuki.

But first, Kawakami.

The second-year boy, having cleaned his hair and body with a haste that would probably not meet Miyuki's fastidious personal hygiene standards, looked as ready as Sawamura had been to escape with a mumble of how he thought he should skip the bath tonight. So Kataoka had to tackle him just as he'd tackled Sawamura.

"Kawakami," he called.

"Kantoku?" the kid squeaked.

"Get in."

"Y-yes, sir."

"Sawamura, you've soaked long enough. Go back to your room now and get some rest."

"Yes, Boss!"

As Kawakami climbed in, Sawamura scampered out of the bathing area. Kataoka calculated how long he himself had been in here – probably 20 minutes. His personal limit for soaking in 40-degree water was 30 minutes before the heat made him light-headed. So he would have to deal with Kawakami fast. He hoped there would be no further accidents requiring his intervention. If the players who'd been training with the pitchers tonight were to walk in just as he was giving Kawakami, say, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or something like that, the misunderstanding that could lead to would probably result in both Oota-san's and the principal's deaths by immediate cardiac arrest.

"Do you need some space from Miyauchi?" he asked the second-year directly, without preamble, once they were alone.

"Err – I – I…" Kawakami stammered, turning a shade of red that had nothing to do the heat of the water.

"Has he apologised for everything he did, and everything he said to you, that might have made you uncomfortable?"

"Yes, sir."

Kataoka noticed that Kawakami had not needed to ask him for clarification on the topic; the boy knew what he was talking about. "Do you feel threatened by Miyauchi?" the coach asked.

"No, sir!" Kawakami looked up, startled. "No! Miyauchi-senpai has been really… really _kind_ to me. He'd never, you know, make me feel threatened."

"I need to know if you are personally all right – I don't mean as a pitcher, but as a person."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Then I need to know if what Miyauchi did and said is going to affect the way you operate as a battery, or even just as members of the same team."

"No, sir. I'm still trying to… um… figure out how I really feel about what happened, but it won't affect how we work as a team."

Kawakami's voice, however, held volumes less naivete than Sawamura's, and uncertainty clouded his eyes, not at all like Sawamura's clear amber-brown gaze. It confirmed for Kataoka that Kawakami was a great deal more intelligent and sensitive than his fellow pitcher. But it also confirmed that he was troubled by what had happened with Miyauchi, whereas Sawamura was treating Miyuki's behaviour as little more than yet another annoyance in a months-long history of teasing that went all the way back to the boy's first visit to the school, as Takashima had recounted.

Kataoka made another quick decision and said to Kawakami: "You'll need time to process whatever has gone on between the two of you. And you'll need distance from him to do that. For the next few days until the Yakushi match, I will see to it that you do not train with Miyauchi at all. You will practise with Miyuki and Ono."

"Kantoku, it's not that I need…"

"Give yourself that space and time, Kawakami."

"Yes, sir."

Kataoka rose to leave, and saw that Kawakami was sensible enough to avert his gaze, unlike Sawamura three months ago, carelessly getting an eyeful of his coach's privates and completely lacking the social polish that would at least have allowed him to pretend not to be ludicrously intimidated.

But Sawamura's lack of artificial veneers was precisely what made him so appealing as a player to his coach, and so attractive to teenagers like Miyuki, Kuramochi and Chris, who could very well still be working out which way they swung (and not with a bat).

That left Miyuki and Miyauchi to talk to, and Kataoka knew what he had to say to the two catchers, separately: "_Whatever you feel for your teammates, if it will trouble them and affect their form, rein it in. Be close to them as players, but keep your personal distance until things stop feeling awkward. Save your passion for games. Grow up first and discover who you really are, then see if you still feel the same way. Chances are, you won't."_

It was what he had to say as their coach and teacher. If anything in the heart of Kataoka the man told him that this might be a harsh message for two boys of 16 and 17, he shut that voice down and told himself it was best for them as players and students. And if anything in his conscience whispered that he was going against his long-standing policy of treating his players like individuals old enough to be accountable for their own actions, another part of him hushed it with the reminder that he was an adult in charge of this bunch of kids who nearly had the bodies of grown-ups, but deep inside were still very much the children they had been not all that long ago.


	8. Spying Game

**Spying Game**

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In which Animal's friend is in a quandary

* * *

**Note:** This chapter is from an OC's point of view, but unlike the canteen staff in Chapter 3, this one needed a name.

* * *

Picking out Animal's son at Seidou had been easy. The boy had his father's bearing and a healthy dose of his genes, expressed in thick, wavy brown hair, unusual citrine-coloured eyes and an exceptionally light complexion. But his beauty – now, that _had_ to come from his mother, because Animaru-san, while a good-looking-enough bloke, was a far cry from pretty.

Not that Kouta Youji would know what the kid's mother looked like. His relationship with Animaru-san had never involved discussions about family. Yet, he was one of his closest friends, in the sense that male buddies were close (Kouta's wife would disagree about what constituted a close friendship, but that was women for you). It was just that when he and Animal got together, their exchanges revolved around sports, arguments about the best recipes for the sake punches they mixed at their gatherings, pop philosophy and jokes about current affairs.

Kouta's family had for decades been involved with the sporting world – athletes, managers, coaches, physiotherapists, sports-equipment makers and groundskeeping experts littered his clan. So he was acquainted with famous pros through his work and personal contacts. J. Animal, retired baseballer, was among them. Kouta liked Animaru-san very much for his larger-than-life personality and warmth to everyone regardless of their social status. Even if others might find the man a peculiar _gaijin _celebrity who spoke comically bad Japanese, he got along great with him.

When Animal had learnt last year that Kouta's sports-facility maintenance company had signed a contract to maintain Seidou High's baseball fields, equipment and sports fixtures for the next academic year, he'd grinned widely and said: "That's wonderful, Kouta-san! My son, Yuu, is a second-year student there. He isn't so involved with the team any more as he's recovering from a shoulder injury, but do keep an eye on him for me, will you?"

It was the first time either had mentioned a family member to the other, and Animaru-san had said it with a cheery laugh and a wink, which meant he hadn't intended it to be taken seriously. So when the new academic year began, Kouta had only casually observed the polite, handsome kid – now a third-year student – called Chris by his schoolmates. He never made himself known to the boy as his father's friend.

He learnt that the kid had been a brilliant catcher who'd inherited his old man's tactical sense, until the injury had put the brakes on all that promising development. From what Kouta could see, he now did administrative work and light training with the second-string team before leaving the school grounds in the early evenings for physiotherapy under his father's supervision.

Then, several weeks into the academic term, Kouta met Animal at a mutual friend's gathering, and the boy's father confided that he was worried about Chris.

"That kid's been keeping secrets from me! Can you believe it? Yuu is supposed to be going slowly and carefully through rehabilitation, but I've found out, thanks to some crazy boy barging in on his physio session last week, that he's begun seriously training with the team again, and even catching for the first-year pitchers!"

"What?" Kouta asked, concerned. "I've only seen your son keeping records and doing light training. I didn't know he was catching for the pitchers."

"Kouta-san, please – if you happen to spot him doing anything that could damage his shoulder again, let me know. Although the extent of his injury was his fault since he hid it from his coaches, I also blame those coaches for playing him until he broke, and for being so easily fooled by the denials of a child each time they asked if he was fine. As you know, unlike in America, high-school baseball coaches in Japan don't even need proper courses or certification – I'm not sure they know what they're doing sometimes."

So Kouta had done his best to take note of Chris' activities, and had texted Animaru-san once a week to assure him that his son looked fine despite coaching the first-year pitchers. In fact, he looked healthier and happier than he had earlier in the term, when the expressions on his face had been limited to variations of sombreness.

Still, it didn't improve Animaru-san's blood pressure when Kouta was obliged to warn him that Chris appeared to be among the second-string players preparing for a practice match in a few days. Luckily for Chris, the boy himself had decided to stop hiding things from his father, because Animal texted to reply that Yuu had been honest enough to inform him about the same thing a few minutes after Kouta.

The father had attended the match, and made angry comments to the spectators around him during the first inning, which was how Kouta discovered that the "crazy boy" he had previously mentioned was that loud-voiced first-year pitcher whose training Chris seemed to be in charge of.

Then Kouta's heart missed a beat – and Animaru-san must have come close to a heart attack – when Chris went for the ball and crashed into the boundary fence. But everyone breathed again when the catcher emerged from that lunge unhurt, and Seidou won the match. It seemed to reconcile Animal to his son being as baseball-crazy as he'd been in his youth; he later said to Kouta that Yuu was old enough now – and hopefully had learnt his lesson from his shoulder injury – to gauge what was best for himself.

But at their next gathering, Animal's brow was knitted all over again as he muttered: "Something's going on with Yuu, and he's not telling me about it."

"Eh? After that match, you were happy with how he'd proven you wrong about everything you'd feared," Kouta said.

"No, it's not about his involvement with the team any more. He's open with me about that now. Something _else_ is strange about him. He keeps smiling to himself these days, and says it's nothing when I ask. It must be a girl – he must be going out with some girl and is afraid to tell me because I'll nag him about getting distracted from his studies. Have you noticed him spending more time with anyone? One of the student-managers, maybe? That third-year – what's her name – Fujiwara Takako? She's very elegant and pretty and probably just his type – he's known her since their first year at Seidou."

Kouta hadn't noticed Chris spending more time than usual talking to the girls, or paying more attention to any one of them, and he told the boy's father so.

"Still, please help me look out for any unwise things he might be doing, won't you?" the man requested, and this time, there was no cheeky wink, which meant he was serious. "I don't need him getting his heart as well as his shoulder broken if things go wrong. It's his final year of high school. He needs to do well in his exams to get into a good university."

So whenever he had the opportunity during the workday to observe Chris, Kouta noted his interactions with girls, to see if he might be interested in any of them. But the youth wasn't paying particular attention to anyone other than the pitchers he was training, and socialised mainly with his teammates. As for the beautiful Fujiwara girl, she seemed to be in a vaguely romantic relationship with another third-year player – the outfielder who kept a goatee (and apparently got away with it because no one wanted to discipline a valuable first-stringer with a vile temper over something as minor as facial hair).

So he texted his friend one hot summer afternoon: "Animaru-san, I don't think your son is doing anything unwise. I've seen nothing that would give you cause for concern."

The boy's father texted back: "Thank you for looking out for him. I'm relieved to know he isn't doing anything stupid."

Sure that Chris' dad had been fretting over nothing, Kouta put his phone away as one of his crew came over to hand him a chilled canned drink. He gratefully accepted it and took a break from the pitching machine he'd been repairing.

The players were spread out over the grounds, working away around the batting area, in the bullpen, on the fields, and in the indoor facility and gym, while others crouched on the ground with the coaches to discuss tactics, or asked the student-managers for fresh crates of balls to practise with. He enjoyed the sight of all these enthusiastic youngsters expending their energy on what they were most passionate about.

His attention was abruptly drawn to the bullpen when a particularly loud yell came from Crazy Boy – something impossible to understand about how he was "perfectly fine pitching to Ono-senpai, thank you very much, and I don't need help from you any more than my pillow needed to be humped by you!". The yell was apparently directed at the bespectacled catcher – whom Kouta knew was the ingenious Miyuki Kazuya. He'd often seen Crazy Boy hounding Miyuki to catch his pitches, but today, he sounded irritated with him and appeared to be trying to avoid him.

Just a tiff between schoolmates, thought Kouta. It would blow over in no time, the way minor spats went between teenage boys.

The one called Ono, however, was called away by an assistant coach, and Crazy Boy would be catcher-less without Miyuki as the others were occupied. But Kouta smiled to see Chris detach himself from a group discussion to enter the bullpen, where he told Miyuki he would catch for the first-year. Such a peacemaking kid – his father should be so proud of him.

Crazy Boy's face shone when he realised the third-year was available – and Miyuki Kazuya was dumped.

From his past observations, Kouta knew that Chris was coaching the first-year pitchers, but had been specifically put in charge of Crazy Boy. It was good, then, that they got along well. The younger kid clearly adored his senpai, and Chris seemed to have truly taken this kouhai of his under his wing. Kouta could easily see that much – even behind the bars of the protective face cage, Animal's kid was smiling, looking genuinely happy.

He always looked happy to catch for Crazy Boy.

In fact, Chris never looked as _alive_ as when he was with Crazy Boy, now that Kouta thought about it…

Oh.

No.

But those citrine eyes were glowing behind the bars – lit up with pleasure and pride – as they gazed on the first-year. Kouta got up and walked, drink in hand, to the side of the bullpen to study the younger boy carefully. Of course he'd observed him before, but he'd never taken specific note of him.

He watched him now as he pitched, again and again, with occasional corrections from Chris. He was a regular boy. Nice looking, but not exceptionally so for a 15- or 16-year-old – unlike Chris and Miyuki, who were blessed with the sort of bone structure the camera would always love from any angle. This kid wasn't in that league – his most attractive feature was his pair of huge, expressive eyes with a distinct glimmer of amber in the irises. And his most unusual characteristic was a surprising degree of flexibility in his joints. Other than that, he was your average, rather-cute-but-not-too-beautiful teenager. Then again, that blindingly open face, brilliant smile and fiery character – so different from Chris' reserved personality… perhaps opposites really did attract.

He needed to watch them interacting far more than this to draw firmer conclusions, but work was calling, and he returned to the jammed pitching machine, which kept him absorbed for a long time. When he next looked up from his view of moving parts, wrenches and grease, Chris and Crazy Boy were gone.

The next day, he didn't have the chance to see them together, for work spared him no time to play the spying game on behalf of Animaru-san. But purely by chance, he overheard a player's passing remark to another about how the indoor training facility was always in use late into the night "because of crazy fellows like Sawamura". _Sawamura – Sawamura Eijun – that was the boy's name, wasn't it?_

Perfect. Some gym equipment had been cordoned off in a corner of the indoor facility for checks and maintenance – nothing urgent, as the school had back-up sets, but it was the excuse he needed to stay back late for a few nights "to clear the backlog", as he told his team and the security staff.

The first night, he was unlucky, for Sawamura was pitching to someone called Miyauchi, with the head coach present. But the second night, he got particularly fortunate, because Chris and Sawamura came in after dinner, and practically had the place to themselves. They saw him there, tinkering with the gym equipment, but apart from acknowledging him – a polite nod from Chris and a hearty "Konbanwa!" from Sawamura – they didn't take particular notice of him. That was the good thing about being on the maintenance team when one just wanted to fade into the background.

The more he watched in between tightening nuts and bolts and oiling moving parts, the more his heart sank as he wondered how he was ever going to explain this to Animaru-san.

Because Chris was glowing, and finding a lot of reasons to rise from his catcher's crouch, pull off his face guard, and walk over to Sawamura to adjust his posture.

Murmured comments like: "…from where I am, here's what I see when your pitch veers more to the inside than it should – your right leg drops a shade too far to your right, and your pitching arm also swings too far towards your right…" All spoken as Chris stood very close behind the kid, one hand on the boy's raised right thigh, the other hand on his left arm, fingers curling lightly over the first-year's wrist, and his lips almost, almost brushing the boy's left ear.

Sawamura's face was a picture of concentration. The faint flush on his cheeks, as far as Kouta could tell, was only the heightened colour of physical and mental exertion. Nowhere close to approaching the look of fascination… no, desire… in Chris' golden eyes, or the barely-there curve of Chris' lips that whispered of a secret withheld from everyone.

And those hands – Chris was keeping his hands on the pitcher's body longer than he had to. Kouta noticed, and he was sure a coach would notice too, if one were present. However, Sawamura was oblivious. He looked at Chris with innocent admiration, childlike, puppy-like, nothing resembling what was emanating from his senpai.

Damn. What was he supposed to say to the boy's father now?

_Animaru-san, have you asked your son if he's close to any _boys_ in particular? _(Because he's standing really, really close to one right now.)

Absolutely not. Not unless he wanted to give his friend a stroke.

A different kind of stroke from what Chris was giving Sawamura's right hip – ostensibly to nudge that uncannily flexible leg into the right position for maximum downswing power – but in reality, probably so he could maintain contact without being called out for it.

Crap.

_Animaru-san, perhaps you should ask Chris to bring one of his teammates home for dinner. _(Because your son looks like he'd love to take one boy home forever.)

No, no, it would have the kid's old man in a frenzy of speculation.

In the end, Kouta sighed, stood up from the rowing machine he was fixing, and zipped up his bag of tools. The boys looked over, momentarily distracted, and Sawamura bowed to him. Chris had the good grace to blush a little – perhaps he had forgotten that an adult was present, and adults tended to notice things that would go over the heads of kids like the one he had his hands on right then.

Kouta sighed again, nodded to them, and left the building. He went to a bench at the far outer corner of the indoor training facility, where he wouldn't be seen by the boys if they came outside now. He sat down and took his mobile phone out of his pocket, then started text after text to Animal, only to delete every one before he could complete it or think about tapping on "Send".

_Animaru-san, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I think your son is in love with Crazy Boy._

He didn't know how long he'd sat there before keying in that latest string of words, but just as he was contemplating the message, he heard voices. Peeking carefully round the corner, he saw that a third boy was now at the entrance of the building.

"Tanba-san!" Sawamura greeted him. "Are you here to practise too? We've just finished!"

It was the team's third-year ace.

"Chris – a word?" Tanba asked, in a voice that sounded both firm and soft – rather like Chris, who spoke very softly for someone who held so much authority among the players.

"I'll be off, then!" Sawamura chirped. "Thanks for the coaching, Chris-senpai! Konbanwa, Tanba-san!"

The boy ran off in the direction of the dorms, leaving Chris and Tanba near the doorway.

As soon as Sawamura was out of earshot, Kouta heard Tanba say: "Chris, he doesn't know. It's not too late to stop."

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked.

"Sawamura. Don't proceed. Back off now, and he'll never be the wiser."

"What do you – what on earth do you –"

"I've seen the way you look at him, the way you touch him. And it's only been two days since Kantoku asked you to be a buffer between him and Miyuki while they resolve their spat, but you've moved in _so fast_… I've never seen you like this."

Chris dragged a hand through his hair and glanced away for a few seconds, then faced his teammate again to ask: "Tanba, are you doing this for him, or for me?"

"I'm doing it for _me_," Tanba declared. Under the fluorescent lighting, his face was reddening, Kouta could see. For such a tall and imposing-looking youth, with an intimidating shaved head and grim facial features, he was surprisingly awkward now, and… yes, _shy_.

"You…?"

Tanba reached out with his right hand and curled his fingers around Chris' left bicep. His hand moved towards Chris steadily, yet his fingers touched him tentatively, as if he was determined to make the approach but afraid to actually make contact.

"I know you've never thought of me that way," Tanba said, so quietly that Kouta had to strain to make out his words. "I thought you liked girls. Maybe you do, I don't know – maybe Sawamura's an exception. But I'm asking you now to _consider_ thinking of me that way. And to back off from him before it's too late – before he notices."

Tanba ran his fingers hesitantly down Chris' arm to his wrist, but stopped short of touching the other boy's hand before withdrawing his own. He stepped back, looked at him a moment more, then murmured a goodnight before walking away. Chris, left alone, leaned back against the front wall beside the doorway and blew out a long, slow breath.

He stayed there, unmoving, until a group of players came walking towards the building, at which point he pushed off from the wall and strode away.

Kouta watched him go, then leaned back against the bench and stared into the darkness for some time before looking at his phone again. He shook his head and deleted the text he'd keyed in, put his phone away and headed home. He couldn't do it. Wouldn't have the courage to deal with his friend's reaction. Perhaps he'd find the guts another day, but for now, he'd keep those boys' secrets.


	9. Fragments

**Spoiler alert:** This chapter contains spoilers for the outcome of Seidou's summer campaign, including the final game against Inashiro, so you may not want to read it if you haven't got past Chapter 190 of the manga, or Episode 62 of the anime.

* * *

**Fragments**

* * *

In which Oota can't puzzle the kids out

* * *

Oota always did his best to understand teenagers. After all, he'd made it his vocation to educate and guide them to the best of his ability. When he was baffled by their behaviour, he tried to put himself in their shoes and remember how he had felt when he'd been in his teens. It usually gave him enough insight, when students were being difficult, to determine if he should sympathise, be encouraging, verbally knock sense into them, or come down hard on them.

But for nearly a month now, he'd had an impossible time comprehending several kids. The strangeness had begun in the lead-up to the quarter-final against Yakushi, just after the principal had flown into a panic and Kataoka-kantoku had had a word with Miyauchi, Miyuki, Kawakami and Sawamura. It should have been the foundation for the boys to right matters and settle into their old routines. However, their emotional conflict must have been stronger than Oota had guessed, because things only grew off-kilter in a different way, and the circle of affected team members widened.

Oota didn't actually write down any of his reflections, of course. But in his head, he arranged the fragments he'd seen and heard, like the bad essays he was always marking, under several sub-headers.

**First, the Miyauchi-Kawakami issue.  
**With Oota's and Kataoka's intervention, and Miyauchi backing off, Kawakami ought to have been able to resume normal interactions with the catcher, and the subject of Miyauchi's declaration need never have come up again. But it hadn't panned out that way.

Things had started going awry for Oota's barely-recovering peace of mind during the Yakushi quarter-final, when everyone thought Kawakami was pitching timidly because he was unnerved by the home run Todoroki Raichi had hit off Sawamura's pitch minutes earlier. But Oota had noticed Kawakami glancing towards the bullpen, where Miyauchi was helping Tanba to warm up. And those glances made Oota wonder for the first time if Miyauchi was also on his mind. This was confirmed for him on the evening of the same day, when he'd encountered Shirasu Kenjirou heading towards the dorms, alone.

"Shirasu, wasn't Kawakami with you a moment ago?" Oota stopped him to ask.

"Oh – Oota-sensei – yes, he was, but he's decided to attend the evaluation meeting conducted by the catchers," the boy replied.

"Isn't that meeting meant only for the first-year pitchers?" Oota queried.

"Hmm, yes, but he wanted to be there."

_He wanted to be there, knowing Miyauchi would be present? _Oota wondered, parting from Shirasu. At the indoor facility, he stood discreetly at the back, near the doorway. Kawakami was there all right, seated on the ground beside Furuya and Sawamura, listening to Chris, Miyauchi and Miyuki offering their assessment of the pitchers' performance in the Yakushi game, and advice about where they could improve.

At the end of the meeting, Kawakami had approached Miyauchi and asked if they could talk. This perturbed Oota. There was no need to talk, surely? All Kawakami needed to do was act like nothing odd had ever happened, and it would soon really be as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.

They didn't look surprised to see Oota – after Kataoka's counselling, they'd have known the adults would want to keep an eye on their interactions with each other. They directed their steps towards the far end, where he could see them, but might not necessarily be able to hear every word.

Among the things he did hear, however, was this part of the exchange, with Kawakami saying: "… I've only ever been attracted to girls. So I can't – I don't – feel the same way you do. But if I were ever to go out with a guy, it would probably be someone like you – kind and dignified and strong… I thought long and hard about whether to say this to you in case it's like leading you on, or giving you mixed signals, but it's how I honestly feel…"

Kawakami blushed his way through his speech but was able to look steadily at Miyauchi, and Oota watched Miyauchi take it like a man as he replied: "Thank you for being honest with me – truly."

Well, surely things would go back to normal _now_, right? Oota thought impatiently. But they didn't. For some reason, Kawakami and Miyauchi actually started hanging out more with one another, along with Tanba. The ace made an odd chaperone, but by the time the semi-final with Sensen Academy swung around two days later, Miyauchi and Kawakami were comfortable enough with each other for the catcher to sternly tell Furuya in front of Kawakami that "MiyaKawa comes first!" when the younger pitcher had tried to butt in on his throwing practice with Kawakami. And Kawakami had gone on to close the game crisply.

_MiyaKawa?_ Oota had rolled his eyes in the dugout upon hearing the slash-fic-like conflation of names floating over to him from the bullpen. _Ah, well, whatever keeps you kids mutually happy…_

Then two days later, they'd played the final against Inashiro, and lost by a single run. In the wake of that defeat, the end of their summer campaign to reach Koushien, and the retirement of the third-years, Kawakami was the player who took it the hardest. In truth, every player – and the coach, too – was blaming himself, in his own way, for his own shortcomings, real or imagined; but one by one, they picked themselves up and moved forward. Not Kawakami. He'd faulted himself for not being able to close the game cleanly, permitting play to be extended, and failing to hold off Inashiro. He remained downcast for weeks; in practice games, he crumbled miserably, walking too many batters far too easily.

Despite his teammates' and Oota's continued efforts, no one was able to coax Kawakami out of his depressed state. It was painful for Oota to see him like this, but surprisingly, he found it almost as painful to watch Miyauchi holding back, agonisingly uncertain of how far he was allowed to go to help Kawakami, uncharacteristically keeping his distance because… probably because _he simply didn't know if he would overstep those fragile boundaries should he try to help_.

Even more uncharacteristically (and surely it was a desperate move), Miyauchi even asked new team captain Miyuki – _Miyuki_, of all people, the one kouhai he resented and had probably thought of for two years as a disrespectful upstart – to get Kawakami back on his feet.

The other catcher, however, was as lost as Miyauchi on the matter of how to achieve that miracle. In the end, some three weeks after the final, it took Isashiki Jun's inimitable tactic of flinging open the door to the players' meeting room and yelling at Kawakami to wipe that gloomy look off his face to shock the boy into pulling himself out of the misery he'd been wallowing in.

Miyuki took over from there, organising practice sessions and rebuilding Kawakami's confidence. Miyauchi looked satisfied, Oota breathed again, and it looked for now as if things were holding reasonably steady on that front.

But the Miyauchi-Kawakami matter wasn't the only head-scratcher for Oota.

**Tanba and Chris were another puzzle.**  
A few nights before the game with Yakushi, Oota had been working late in the staff room. He cleared his assignment-marking workload for the day, then decided to make a final check on the players who were still up, before going home. That was when he'd seen Tanba walking quickly away from the indoor training facility, face and hands tense, leaving a lone figure by the doorway of the building – Chris.

That night, and the next day, and the next, Tanba had slogged his guts out in self-arranged pitching practice sessions. He'd pitched furiously, over and over, against the strongest third-year hitters: Yuuki, Isashiki and Masuko, joined by Kuramochi, Kadota Masaaki, Kusunoki Fumiya and Sakai Ichirou. Even Miyuki – hardly Tanba's favourite teammate – was in the thick of it, energetically catching for him to help him regain match fitness.

Something had happened between Tanba and Chris, and Oota had no idea what.

At the post-Yakushi game evaluation, Oota had of course mostly been paying attention to Kawakami, and later to Miyauchi and Kawakami's tete-a-tete. But he'd also observed Chris gazing at Sawamura a good deal, and looking particularly thoughtful when Miyuki crouched in front of Sawamura and touched his fist to the boy's chest, to tell him that the coach believed in the strength of his heart. The look in Chris' eyes then had been poignant – to Oota, he appeared to be smiling, but somewhat ruefully, as if… as if he was coming to the decision to _leave something behind, to give something up._

Then on the morning of the semi-final game against Sensen Academy, Oota had been talking to the student-managers in the players' canteen when he saw Chris walk up to Tanba, who was eating breakfast alone. Tanba had actually looked surprised to see Chris approaching him – _why should he look surprised when he and Chris had long been good friends? _Had whatever happened between them made him think that Chris wouldn't want to speak to him again?

"How's your condition today?" Chris had asked, pulling out a chair at the table to sit facing Tanba.

"Not bad, I think," the ace had said cautiously.

"You look fit," Chris had added, with a smile.

After a second's silence, Tanba had also smiled, part shyly and part cheekily, and asked softly as his face reddened a little: "Is that your best pick-up line?"

They'd exchanged a few more words that Oota had not been able to make out because Yoshikawa Haruno was asking him whether they should take along extra boxes of energy bars and energy drinks that had been donated by former Seidou players. Then right after that, the entire players' canteen had exploded in hysterical laughter when Masuko Tooru walked in with an unintentionally freshly shaved, so-bald-it-was-gleaming pate – and whatever else Oota might have been able to hear being said between Chris and Tanba was lost to him for good.

What was going on between those two third-years?

Tanba had pitched very decently that day, considering it was his first time starting a game that summer, since his jaw injury. The Tanba-Sawamura-Kawakami relay had worked well, and Seidou was into the final. Pick-up line or not from Chris, nothing was hampering Tanba's form apart from the lack of match fitness, so whatever had gone down between those two seemed more or less resolved from Tanba's perspective.

As for Chris, Oota saw that pensive look in his eyes again the day after the Sensen game – he and Miyuki were discussing breaking balls with Sawamura in the bullpen, and when Miyuki told the first-year that he'd actually unknowingly pitched a breaking ball in yesterday's game, that strange look had come over Chris again, and that rueful smile was on his lips as he looked at Sawamura. Oota heard him murmur to himself when he moved off to the side of the bullpen: _"Eventually, I will be letting you go…"_

So this mysterious thing between Tanba and Chris must have involved Sawamura in some way – not that Sawamura had a clue about it, obviously, as the boy was as rambunctious as ever. But any further thoughts Oota might have had about this particular issue scattered when former student Azuma Kiyokuni suddenly dropped in on the bullpen, sparking chaos as he picked up his old – and very loud – dispute with Sawamura from 10 months ago, right where it had left off.

The Miyauchi-Kawakami and Chris-Tanba matters, though, were _still_ not all that Oota was racking his poor brain over.

**Miyuki and Sawamura were preoccupying him too.  
**Oota had of course heard with his own ears the ruckus in the dorm that night, when Miyuki had all but _propositioned_ Sawamura right in front of the first-year's bedroom. After Kataoka's separate talks with Miyuki, Miyauchi and the two pitchers, however, the three teachers managing the baseball team had convened, and Kataoka had explained tersely that Sawamura hadn't understood Miyuki's drift at all, thinking it was a just a particularly tasteless form of the ongoing baiting the catcher had subjected him to for months. So no one was to make Sawamura more conscious about it.

Miyuki, in the meantime, had been told to continue building a close relationship with Sawamura as a teammate, but to keep a personal distance from the boy.

At the quarter-final against Yakushi, Sawamura in his naïve, playful way, had childishly shown he was still annoyed with Miyuki – when he'd first gone up on the mound, he'd ignored Miyuki's sign and pitched as he pleased, angering Miyuki enough to hurl the ball back at him with full force, conveying his displeasure at being disobeyed in a game. The ball must have been packed with Miyuki's businesslike emotions, because Sawamura seemed to receive every ounce of the catcher's ire, which jolted him to his senses.

To Oota, it looked very clear. Miyuki had, through the hurled ball, said in no uncertain terms to Sawamura: _What's personal is personal, but this is business. We're in this battery, and I expect you to follow my lead. If you don't want to do that, I won't do a thing to lead you._

Sawamura had frantically nodded his understanding, and then obediently pitched whatever Miyuki had called for.

It was exactly what Kataoka had demanded of Miyuki with regard to Sawamura. So far, so good. But right after that, Miyuki had evinced odd behaviour which confused Oota. It later occurred to Oota that the catcher was in fact struggling to maintain that dichotomy between the personal and teammate-bonding arenas.

The unusual acts included Miyuki (for the first time, to the best of Oota's knowledge) apologising sincerely to Sawamura for making a wrong call that had allowed the Todoroki kid to hit a home run off his pitch.

Also, he'd done reckless, albeit effective, things in that game – like stopping Tanba's pitch with his bare hand – which must have stung dreadfully, though he didn't show it.

And then he'd apologised to Sawamura all over again, more cheekily this time, during the evaluation meeting in the evening. With hindsight, Oota felt it was as if Miyuki was trying to say to Sawamura: _I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I don't know how to do this with you… _

Sawamura, up until then, had apparently been in the state of blissful oblivion Kataoka had alluded to. But when Miyuki touched his fist to Sawamura's heart at that meeting, and did the same again four days later in the middle of the final game against Inashiro, it seemed to wake Sawamura up in a different way from the ball hurled in anger.

From what little Oota had gleaned from Takashima-sensei's sly hints about the tricky relationship between Miyuki and Sawamura, the catcher had, thus far, only made teasing physical contact with the pitcher. A cheeky arm slung around his shoulders, baiting Sawamura into grabbing him by his shirt and shaking him… but no serious contact.

Until that gentle touch of his knuckles to the boy's heart.

The first heartfelt, non-teasing touch, and it was probably symbolic of Miyuki's conflict – that just when he was doing his best to be businesslike with Sawamura, he'd made contact in a seriously meaningful way, and something seemed to dawn on the pitcher.

This was where things started getting odd with Sawamura too. Instead of just yelling at Miyuki as he'd always had whenever he was annoyed with the catcher's irritating personality, he started to interact in atypical ways with him.

Like calling off Miyuki's requested timeout during the Sensen game, as if to say: _I don't need you to coddle me – I need you to partner me._

Like letting Miyuki take him, Furuya and Kominato Haruichi to the toilet after the Sensen game so they wouldn't get lost. Oota would have thought that after the dormitory debacle, Sawamura would have rebelliously stomped off on his own to find the toilet so that Miyuki wouldn't "weird him out" again. (And Oota could swear that on the team bus, when Kataoka had heard the words _"Miyuki's taken the first-years to the toilet"_, he'd seen a muscle twitch in the coach's face, as if the man was about to develop a serious facial tic. It must have hit a nerve relating to what Kataoka had vaguely mentioned about Miyuki being too interested in the pitchers' bathroom habits – something Oota decided he _really_ didn't want too many details about.)

Like sulking and pouting, all puppy-ish, instead of hollering furiously in the bullpen the day before the final against Inashiro, when he'd clearly been miffed with Miyuki for not hearing him out earlier in the canteen, regarding his wish to learn a breaking ball.

But Miyuki was still holding back like Miyauchi, not knowing where he could step without crossing the line. And this led to disaster in the final against Inashiro, when Miyuki failed to call a timeout when Sawamura had been feeling the pressure – and then pitched a dead ball against Shirakawa Katsuyuki. Miyuki must have known that Sawamura was feeling the heat – he couldn't _not_ have known. Earlier in the same game, he'd had no trouble requesting a timeout to calm Tanba down when the ace's pitches were hit. Yet, he didn't do the same to calm Sawamura in this more serious situation. Why? It wasn't like Miyuki to overlook the obvious.

_Unless he'd been so busy trying to keep his personal distance from Sawamura that it was screwing up his normal judgement with regard to the boy, even in a game. And it wouldn't have helped that Sawamura was starting to interact differently with him, throwing his already fuzzy parameters further off base._

Oota didn't know how it had become this bad between these kids. He wanted to understand them – he really did – but grasping their motivations was starting to feel like a mountain he could barely scale a third of the way.

**The final straw for him, of course, was Kuramochi.**  
He didn't know whether to call it the Kuramochi-Sawamura matter, or the Kuramochi-Miyuki matter, or the Kuramochi-Sawamura's Girlfriend matter, but it was only mixing him up in the head a lot more.

After the semi-final against Sensen, Kuramochi had met Sawamura's reportedly drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend, Wakana, in person for the first time, and had practically had to scrape his jaw off the floor. That was all understandable to Oota so far. But then Oota had overheard Kuramochi say to Miyuki in training the next day: "You know, for a long time, it was either going to be girls or _you_. Then Bakamura came along and got under my skin and made it easier for me to kick you out of the picture. But if you're going to be all jealous and stalking us, I'll give you a bit of room – you can have him – for now, at least – because I'm going after his girl."

"She's not his girl," Miyuki had muttered.

"You seem bothered that people think she's his girl."

Then Kuramochi had laughed his grating hyena laugh, and Miyuki had grimaced and said: "Bloody switch hitter. You know damn well I can't have him now."

Which only made Kuramochi laugh louder.

That was it. It was all too much for Oota to fathom. He'd thought he could understand teenagers, but he couldn't understand this bunch, not right now, not before they untwisted themselves from these knots they'd tangled themselves in.

Hopefully, they would do that in time not to mess up their campaign in the autumn to aim once more for Koushien. And he hoped even more fervently that if they made it there, none of the residual hormonal mess would result in any Seidou players groping, propositioning or using pick-up lines on their teammates, live on national television.

It would just kill him.

* * *

**Note:** Many apologies to Terajima-sensei for taking events and embellishing dialogue from his manga, and contorting it all to match my headcanon for this story!


	10. Contagion

**Contagion**

* * *

In which Ochiai Hiromitsu wants to clean house

* * *

The boy was a broken tool. Even if he had been whole and useful before, Ochiai Hiromitsu didn't see the purpose in keeping him around now that he was damaged. Faulty equipment should be promptly discarded, and even some undamaged items should be trashed, because a toolbox would function best for its user if it wasn't crammed to overflowing with useless things.

What made this kid unusually grating to Ochiai, however, was how he seemed to think he could be repaired. Well, perhaps he could, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he didn't seem to realise he wasn't worth fixing. He still worked away cheerfully and with fire in his eyes, smiling as if the world was a playground open to him – a delusion that would dissipate soon enough, once he grew up.

Ochiai didn't understand him. He didn't understand why this blunt tool didn't know its place. He didn't understand Kataoka Tesshin's and Takashima Rei's references to Sawamura Eijun's "heart". What was "heart" but an immature dream that you could somehow, someday, be better than life had designed you to be?

He certainly didn't understand why Kataoka, as head coach, insisted on keeping a full-to-bursting collection of gadgets in the toolbox like Sawamura and other components that could never be of practical use in the pursuit of tournament-winning glory.

What was most unseemly was that the whole toolbox – the entire unwieldy baseball team – was infected by these dreams of "heart" and "hope" which the Sawamura kid appeared to embody. That boys long out of kindergarten could believe such things instead of opening their eyes to the harshness of life was surely the fault of the adults in charge. They needed someone to tell them to wake up, take an unsentimental look at what they could realistically succeed in, and drop everything else in which they would only ever be second-best (or dead last).

Ochiai didn't want a team of almost a hundred members. He only needed players he could wield as weapons to battle to the top of the high-school baseball world. Reaching that pinnacle was what Seidou's principal and board members had hired him for, since Kataoka had failed. He wouldn't have the room to give everyone training that would develop their limited skills, so it seemed kindest to drop everybody other than the best. Then they could focus on their studies and not waste all their high-school years on pursuits that would get them nowhere in life.

After all, this year was a write-off. The team wasn't good enough to beat its strongest opponents – anyone casting a cold, objective eye over the lot of them in their current state could see that. Ochiai believed in figures and statistics and plain old ability, and nothing in the lists of numbers he was processing was showing him any prospect of Koushien-worthy capability and form. He saw plenty of motivation, but surely he wasn't the only one who could tell it was high time they discarded the chaff and raised the valuable wheat in the shape of prodigies like Furuya Satoru? Only then could they build a team around the ace to mount a strong tournament challenge in the next academic year.

He couldn't have unnecessary kids hanging around, gobbling up resources that should be devoted to the cream. He definitely didn't want Sawamura Eijun, with his bushbaby eyes and infectious grin, going around yelling his head off and giving hope to the hopeless.

But for unfathomable reasons, Sawamura seemed important to Kataoka Tesshin. And captain Miyuki Kazuya. And even vice-captains Kuramochi Youichi and Maezono Kenta, who growled at him but watched him protectively. Ochiai observed that even though many of the most skilled Seidou baseballers outwardly teased or bullied Sawamura, the acts and attitude were largely a thin cover for a mysterious fondness for the boy, and even – how absurd – even _respect_, and acknowledgement of him as _one of their own_ although he didn't deserve a place among them.

It made no sense.

He was astonished by how hard Kataoka and Miyuki were working to get the kid back into fighting pitching form. They had only just realised that he was afflicted with a bad case of the yips after having accidentally struck an Inashiro player… on the temple, was it?... with a wild pitch in the final they'd lost, and were working overtime to right the problem after the catastrophe of a Yakushi practice match.

Why put so much effort into one fractured part of a machine that wasn't an essential piece? More people were determinedly cheering the boy on, spending precious time helping out in his practice sessions – like Kanemaru Shinji and Kariba Wataru – or by giving him encouragement, and just _being there_ for him – like Kuramochi, the little pink-haired Kominato Haruichi, Maezono, and a good clutch of the third-years who'd just retired. Not to mention the intimidating Takashima – Ochiai didn't know what to make of her, but she seemed very invested in the kid.

What worth did they see in Sawamura?

Even more disturbing was what he witnessed one evening while lurking between two buildings, still getting his bearings on the grounds and surreptitiously figuring out the best spots in the school from which he could spy on people (he believed in knowing his enemy, in dividing and conquering, and that knowledge – especially about others' weaknesses – was power).

Kataoka was having a private exchange with Miyuki outside one of the school structures – damn, he hadn't figured out yet what building was what – and he heard this intriguing part of their conversation:

"…I'm not above admitting that I might have been wrong, Miyuki," Kataoka was saying.

"Kantoku?" Miyuki sounded startled.

"My intentions were good, but I should have listened to my gut. I should have left it to you, and trusted you, to determine how best to interact with Sawamura properly. I shouldn't have imposed limiting requirements that would constrain you and interfere with your instincts about him – which happened both in the Inashiro final and the Yakushi practice match. I'm asking you now to act as you deem fit, as long as it builds him and the team up and doesn't damage unity."

"Kantoku…" Miyuki had begun, before lowering his eyes. "But you _weren't_ wrong. I _did_ need a wake-up call with respect to the personal side of things."

"Maybe so. But now that you've had that wake-up call, can you bring balance to the way you handle him?"

"To be frank, I don't know," Miyuki stated.

"I've never known you to be uncertain about being able to bring out the best in a pitcher."

"A-hahaha, well…" Miyuki began self-consciously, bringing up a hand to half-heartedly scratch the back of his head.

The kid seemed to hope that the coach would move on to whatever he wanted to say next, but Kataoka only kept silent and looked at him.

So Miyuki was forced to continue: "Well, I guess I've never known myself to see a pitcher as more than just a pitcher…"

Kataoka considered this for a few moments before saying: "All right, then, tell me what you are sure you _can_ do with him."

This appeared to take Miyuki back to firmer ground, and he said: "I can guide him towards alternatives that will work well for him until he overcomes the yips. And once he does, he'll be all the stronger."

"Then do that."

"I won't be the best person to deliver the lesson, though. I'll have to rope in others whom he will be more receptive to."

"That's fine. But you can't avoid dealing directly with him forever."

"I know."

The discussion ended there. From their words alone, Ochiai understood that something had occurred between Miyuki and Sawamura in the period before he had been employed by Seidou, and whatever it was, it had affected the catcher's judgement. He couldn't possibly know what had happened, and in truth, he didn't care – except that it irritated him, because it looked as if more resources were going to be wasted on the wide-eyed boy who would never have a place on the team once he, Ochiai, was solely in charge of it.

It irked him enough to expend a good amount of effort the next day tracking Miyuki's moves to see what he was up to – no easy feat, as school had resumed after the summer break; he couldn't lurk outside Class 2-B all day, where he wouldn't be able to account for his presence if questioned by another staff member.

He could only hope that Miyuki's plan wouldn't be quietly carried out during lesson hours. Fortunately, just after practice ended in the evening, he spied the boy jogging up to another student who'd come by to watch the training, and who wasn't in baseball gear.

Ochiai sneaked about the best he could as Miyuki drew this student aside for a one-to-one, and positioned himself where he hoped he would be least noticeable but could listen in – somewhere between a sorry-looking tree and a large garbage receptacle.

"…I know you're busy with your exam preparations, Chris-senpai, but could I please trouble you to help? It won't get across to him best if it comes from me – I'm not exactly his favourite person at the moment."

"And I am?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Miyuki sounded genuinely astonished. "He worships the ground you walk on."

"Does he now?" the student named Chris said softly, contemplatively. "But I'm sure you know I've been trying – like you – to keep some distance from him."

"Well…"

"You can't not have observed what was going on," Chris said. "Even Tanba realised."

"Tanba-san worships the ground you walk on too. He'd hardly _not_ have worked it out." Although the words were bold, Miyuki's tone of voice was respectful. (It suddenly dawned on Ochiai that Miyuki only ever spoke respectfully to Kataoka and the retired third-year players.)

"So you do know."

"I know."

"And you're still asking me because…" Chris trailed off.

"Because unlike me, you weren't stupid enough to make him an offer he was only too eager to refuse. And he actually _listens_ to you."

"This isn't a long-term solution, you know."

"I know, Chris-senpai. I'll solve my communication – and other – issues with him, but it won't be immediate. I know how much you care about him – all right, let's not go there – I know how much you care about his development as a pitcher. You're his truest mentor. You're really the only one I can turn to."

"What do you want me to do?"

They began walking towards the dormitories. As Ochiai was deciding how best to tail them, Takashima called out to him and came up to say that Kataoka was asking for a quick coaches' meeting. So he'd have to wait for another chance to watch the next instalment in this irksome series that he hoped wasn't going to turn into a saga, because there were so many other people to spy on, so many other exchanges to eavesdrop on, so much toolbox decluttering to do…

Alas, the next evening, which he gauged was the right time to see what Miyuki had asked this Chris guy to do for Sawamura, he had another coaches' meeting to attend. Then he got an urgent call from his mother about how his estranged wife had just rung to say that his daughter was at the doctor's with a fever, and he'd better have the decency to drop by to see her if he was ever going to be any kind of father worth speaking about.

So he had done his paternal duty that evening – luckily, his little girl's ailment turned out to be nothing serious. Of course, he'd paid the doctor's bill, so the probably-soon-to-be-ex-Missus wouldn't have another reason to look at him very much more sourly than she normally did.

When at last he was able to resume viewing the Sawamura Eijun drama serial, the kid had moved on to the next stage, no doubt after his Chris-senpai's intervention. He was pitching repeatedly to Kariba in the indoor training facility, with Kanemaru in the batter's position. Kanemaru was wearing what looked like a makeshift set of full armour – a mix of orthodox baseballing protective gear and other stuff that must have been cadged off a rookie cosplayer's failed attempt at a costume.

This self-imposed training looked to be a series of pathetic tries at honing a low outside-corner pitch. He was halfway decent in terms of strength and technique, but his control was miserable, to the extent that even though it was the _outside_ corner he was aiming for, he still managed to hit Kanemaru on the thigh and hip a number of times.

"Aaargh!" Sawamura yelled. "I can _feel_ it there – just _there_ at the fingertips! But I'm not delivering it!"

"Sawamura, for pity's sake, get some damned rest!" Kanemaru yelled back, whipping off the serial-killer-style face mask he had donned.

"Not until I get this right! I totally understood what Chris-senpai was teaching me, but doing it isn't the same as understanding it! Fifty more pitches!"

"Hell, no!" Kanemaru howled.

"I don't need to rest!"

"But _I_ do!" Kanemaru roared.

"I'll catch for him a bit more," Kariba kindly told the bleached-haired boy. "You go back to the dorm."

"I'll help you again tomorrow!" Kanemaru snapped at Sawamura as he marched past him towards the door, forcing Ochiai to scoot away and duck behind a vending machine so that he wouldn't be seen. "But tonight, I need to collapse. And do my homework before collapsing. Oh good god, I'll never finish my assignment. Why did I ever promise Chris-senpai…"

As he disappeared in the direction of the dorm, muttering about the work he had to get done, Ochiai crept back to the door and watched some more as Kariba patiently caught Sawamura's pitches until the fiery idiot finally paused to contemplate what he might be doing wrong.

Kariba got up, went over to him, and said: "Sawamura – from where I'm positioned, I see nothing wrong with your form right now – especially without a batter present. But I can't feel on your behalf the way the ball leaves your fingertips, so that's something you're going to have to figure out gradually."

"I don't have time for 'gradually', Kariba," Sawamura wailed.

"Well, I know for sure that you're not going to find it by overdoing it in one session. We still have tomorrow. By then, some insight may come to you."

"Yeah, maybe…"

"So come on, let's hit the baths."

"You go ahead. I'm just going to pitch into the net a bit more, to see if I can get that feeling at my fingertips the couple of times I seemed to get it more on target."

"You'll overdo it."

"I won't, promise!" the kid grinned, waving Kariba off and bowing to him. "Thank you for all the time you've spent helping me tonight!"

Ochiai had to duck away again as Kariba exited the building. He sneaked back to the doorway in time to see Sawamura picking up the fallen balls, dumping them into a crate, then dragging the crate over to where he would stand to pitch into the net.

He pitched a few, walked around for a bit with a ball in his left hand, staring at it as if he was trying to puzzle its nature out, pitched some more, sat cross-legged on the ground and contemplated the ball some more, then pitched again. This went on until the crate was empty, at which point he trotted up to the net, where he gathered all the fallen balls and tossed them into a container. There, he sat down, leaned back against a stack of crates, holding a ball and studying it and his fingertips until, no doubt overcome by mental fatigue, he let his eyes flutter shut.

After about ten minutes, Ochiai realised that the kid had truly dropped off. He decided that he had better wake him. It wouldn't do to have players dozing off in the training facility – it made a bad picture for team discipline and propriety. He walked in and stood over Sawamura, who was slumped against the crates, the ball still held loosely in his hand. He was about to bend down to shake the kid awake when he heard footsteps outside.

The person was calling out: "Oi! Sawamura! What's this I hear from Kariba about you _still_ being in here? Are you really _that_ stupid as to overtrain like this?"

Instinctively, Ochiai ducked quickly behind another stack of crates, further away from the nets (was this how rats and other household pests felt, he wondered?). He was doing nothing wrong by being here, of course – a member of the coaching team about to wake a player who'd fallen asleep alone in the indoor area – but his secretive nature made him prefer to stay concealed.

It was Miyuki. The captain fell silent when he saw Sawamura on the ground, and hurried forward, no doubt fearing that the other boy might have collapsed.

"Sawamura!" he called out, running up to him to crouch before him.

But the pitcher stirred and mumbled incoherently before falling back into the deep, rhythmic breathing of sleep.

With the assurance that Sawamura wasn't dead or dying, Miyuki calmed down, inched up towards the pitcher until he was right beside him, knelt back on his calves, and simply gazed at the boy.

Ochiai wasn't familiar enough yet with the Seidou players, so he couldn't say with absolute certainty that he knew all the expressions on Miyuki's face. But to the best of his knowledge, the captain displayed looks that ran between the boundary lines of grim determination and too-clever-by-half mischievous grins, putting on a wide range of sharp and disapproving to snarky and ironic faces between those borders. As far as Ochiai could tell, this present look – this gentle expression, with that softness in his eyes and that helpless smile playing on his lips – wasn't a face that Miyuki showed anyone here.

The catcher looked at the sleeping Sawamura that way for a minute, then hesitantly reached out with his right hand and touched the other boy's messy, sweaty mop of hair – very carefully, almost reverently at first, then a little more boldly, his smile deepening, like a child discovering a wild animal he could pet without getting bitten.

Ochiai had gathered from Miyuki's exchanges with Kataoka and Chris that he'd been trying, for whatever reason, to maintain personal distance from Sawamura. Well, he was failing badly now, because he was moving his hand from the boy's hair to his face. His knuckles softly traced the curve of Sawamura's cheek to his chin, and his thumb ghosted over the pitcher's lower lip.

Sawamura stirred and mumbled, and Miyuki dropped his hand in a flash. Ochiai watched as he shifted back into a crouch, pasted a superficial grin on his face, extended the same hand he'd used so gently a moment ago, and casually shook the boy by his left shoulder.

"Oi – this isn't the place for falling asleep, you idiot! Wake up," he ordered.

Sawamura opened his eyes, blinked a few times at Miyuki, not quite processing what was going on. Then his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing, and he jerked into an upright sitting position, yelling: "Miyuki Kazuya! What are you doing here?"

"Waking the sleeping idiot, of course," Miyuki fired back. "Kariba told me you were still here practising, but it looks like you were slacking off."

"Shut up! I was practising! I just got tired thinking, that's all!"

"Fell asleep _thinking_? Ah – of course any mental exercise would be too much for you to cope with," Miyuki smirked. "Didn't I just tell you the other day not to think about complicated stuff, since you're too _stupid_?"

Sawamura shot to his feet, and Miyuki rose a nanosecond after, as if the sheer momentum of the pitcher's swift movement had dragged him up in its wake.

Ochiai – and Miyuki, presumably – expected Sawamura to start yelling again as he normally did whenever his teammates baited him, but the boy surprised them both by staring at Miyuki out of blazing eyes as he asked, very quietly: "Miyuki Kazuya, is that what you _really_ want to say to me?"

Miyuki looked momentarily taken aback, but recovered quickly before grinning like a Cheshire cat and replying: "It's the only sort of thing you understand, _baka_ – so what else could I possibly have to say to you?"

"You've called me an idiot so many times, it stopped meaning anything to me because I figured that's just the way you are – and you're hardly the only person who calls me stupid, anyway," Sawamura growled. "So I don't mind that you irk and insult me if that's merely how you are with me. But I mind if you're being fake. And your words now don't match what I felt when you touched your fist to my heart that day in the meeting, and during the Inashiro match. You make a lot of nasty noise with your mouth all the time – it covers the things I can't hear you saying because you're spewing so many other things. But I _heard_ you when you made contact. I did."

Miyuki, staring at Sawamura, looked as shocked and wide-eyed as Ochiai had ever seen him look. But as before, he recovered fast and laughed: "You've really overdone your practice tonight, haven't you, _baka_? I didn't think even you could possibly be this stupid, but it seems I was wrong."

Sawamura's eyes flashed and his fists clenched as he spoke: "Even if you don't think I'll like what I hear, you could at least be honest with me the same way you tell me things honestly when we're dealing with baseball."

"Eh?" Miyuki asked, assuming a patently artificial look of surprise. "What haven't I been honest with you about?"

"That's what I want you to tell me, you bastard," Sawamura snapped.

"Ahhh… let's see… you don't smell too good right now and could do with a bath?"

"Bastard Miyuki," Sawamura hissed angrily before storming out of the indoor facility, Miyuki following at a safe distance of several feet.

As Ochiai came out of his hiding place, he realised that he had been wrong about Sawamura Eijun. He had badly underestimated the kid. He wasn't just a broken tool – he was a dangerous element that lured people into his illusionary world, causing coaches like Takashima and Kataoka to be excessively protective of him, and seducing boys into thinking about other boys in ways that they shouldn't. Talented players like Miyuki were far too valuable to the team for Ochiai to get into trouble over this issue, so Sawamura was the one he would go after. Ochiai was going to get rid of this contagion, and if it meant finding a way to crush the boy's spirit and destroy his form in order to remove him, he would do it.


	11. Making Things Right

**Making Things Right **

* * *

In which the catering manager gets all worked up

* * *

She hadn't felt this enraged in years. In fact, the catering manager wasn't sure when she'd last been as furious as she was now. Must have been that time when an impatient stranger in a shop had shoved her youngest daughter aside roughly because the girl – only four years old then – had lingered a second too long in the narrow doorway, her attention caught by a pretty toy in the store's side-window display. She'd scooped her child up, kissed her better, and stormed after the man to give him a piece of her mind for being so unkind to a little girl.

This present incident did not involve her children, who were all strong young women now, capable of taking care of themselves. But she felt as upset as if someone had hurt her own flesh and blood, because it involved Sawamura-kun – the biggest-hearted, sweetest-natured kid she and her catering team had ever met in Seidou.

It had happened just this morning, and she might not ever have known if she hadn't come in today to cover the Sunday shift normally supervised by her assistant manager. Half her team took Fridays and Saturdays off while the other half – including herself – rested on Sundays and Mondays. However, her assistant had rung last night to say she was down with the beginnings of what promised to be a bad cold, so she'd come to work today in her place.

Even so, she might not have seen what had gone on if she hadn't run out of the kitchen in a vain attempt to catch up with the van driven by the oven repairman, who had left his mobile phone behind on one of the kitchen counters. Her futile dash after the vehicle disappearing into the distance had taken her past the training grounds, which were near the kitchen, players' canteen and dormitories.

It was when she'd given up the chase and was heading back to the kitchen that she'd spotted Sawamura in one of the fields and noticed that something was amiss. She didn't know a massive amount about baseball, but she had seen the kids practising often enough to know that Sawamura was throwing the ball in a strange way – not in his usual vibrant, whip-like manner from behind his back and over his head. He was pitching all funny, throwing from the side, a not-quite-right copy of the style used by Seidou's plump-faced second-year pitcher.

As she drew nearer to the fence out of curiosity, she realised that the way he was throwing the ball wasn't the only clue that something was wrong. It was also how the rest of the players and the coaches were standing there staring at him, disbelief evident on their faces.

Worst of all was the strained cheerfulness in Sawamura's smile, which looked horribly wrong paired with the alarmingly feverish expression in his eyes, all the flash and fire in those amber irises warped into an unsettling blend of humiliation and desperate gratitude. It wasn't anything like the kind of distress and self-directed anger she had seen in him and all the other players after Seidou had lost in the final game of the qualifiers for the summer Koushien tournament – that kind of misery and depression was normal after such a blow, and the players had overcome it one by one, some more quickly than others.

This was totally different. The boy looked as if something vital in him was starting to shrivel.

Someone – most likely Miyuki Kazuya, although she couldn't be sure, so stunned was she by the alien look in Sawamura's eyes – asked him whether this was his idea. His reply was something about it being "the sergeant" who'd helped him realise that he still had this means of being useful to the team. She saw a ripple of shock and unease as heads turned towards the new assistant coach – that odd-looking, heavy-gaited man who wandered around the school wearing shirts with tacky prints, stroking his chin and peering into every corner when he wasn't lounging on one bench or another. The initial bafflement that had been on the faces of the other players present suddenly changed, and she saw the spark of anger in several pairs of eyes – an emotion that immediately leashed itself the moment everyone else saw plainly that Kataoka-kantoku was the most furious of them all.

The head coach took the ire of everyone present and expressed it for them so that they wouldn't have to – and he did it without a word, by shooting a murderous look at the new assistant coach.

Some exchanges she couldn't follow about pitching style and game simulation then took place rapidly between the head coach, Sawamura and Miyuki-kun, with the final decision being that Sawamura must go back to pitching in his normal style at once. For good measure, Kataoka-kantoku turned another killer glare in the odd man's direction.

At first, the catering manager couldn't really understand it. She waited until she saw the familiar light return in a blaze to Sawamura's eyes, then she made her way back to the kitchen, thinking that perhaps the new assistant coach had been training Sawamura with some new method that the head coach disagreed with.

It wasn't until lunch hour that she learnt what had really occurred. The student on counter duty was the homely-looking Kariba Wataru, who had been catching Sawamura's pitches that morning, during that unsettling sequence. In the few minutes before the rest came in, while Kariba-kun was getting ready behind the counter, she asked him what had happened to Sawamura-kun.

In hushed tones, Kariba explained that the new assistant coach, Ochiai-san, had wandered into the indoor training area just after breakfast, while he was helping to catch for Sawamura. Ochiai had then basically told the pitcher that he was of no worth to the team since he couldn't overcome his phobia of pitching "to the inside corner" (which the manager more or less understood to be a throw with a trajectory that passed closest to the batter). So, Ochiai had said, Sawamura might as well make himself useful in practice by throwing in a way that would benefit the batters' preparations against the left-handed sidearm pitcher from the team they would next face.

Sawamura, already feeling useless after not being able to pitch as he normally did, had taken Ochiai's words to heart and actually believed that it was the only way he could help the team now – even though repeatedly pitching in a manner foreign to him could in fact damage his ability to pitch in his strongest, most natural style.

Fortunately, Kataoka-kantoku's anger had woken Sawamura up from the misapprehension that this was how he could best contribute to the team, and normal training had resumed right after that. Coach Ochiai, Kariba whispered even more softly, did not appear to care very much for Sawamura.

Oh, she was mad as hell now that she knew the truth. No one – least of all an adult who was supposed to be guiding and nurturing students – should speak cruel words aimed at crushing a child's spirit. Before hearing from Kariba, she had thought that maybe this new assistant coach was just a little too much on the strict side in training the players, but she now knew that Ochiai hadn't merely been too harsh or too hasty – he had truly not had Sawamura's best interests at heart.

If it weren't against her ethics as a food-and-beverage professional, she'd see to it that that man swallowed some nasty stuff like… like a hefty dose of laxatives the next time she had any control over what he ate in the staff canteen. Well, if she couldn't do that, then at least she would… she would make sure the next plate of food she served him had as much salt in it as rice, or… or that he received generous piles of fermented anchovies in his fruit smoothies.

How dare he hurt Sawamura-kun that way?

Until she could get back at Ochiai, however, the catering manager could only do what she did best – and that was to whip up something tasty. Just for Sawamura. She made space for herself in a corner of the kitchen, quickly measured out, melted and stirred together some of her best dessert ingredients, then went over to the preparation area of the general canteen, which wasn't in use on Sundays. There, she baked a quartet of rich chocolate cupcakes, sliding them out of the oven after 20 minutes, topping them with the fudgiest dark-chocolate mix she could concoct, and hurrying back to the players' canteen in time to see Sawamura slotting his lunch tray into one of the trolley-racks at the side of the canteen.

"Sawamura-kun!" she called, beckoning him into the kitchen area. "Come here a moment, will you?"

"Yes, ma'am!" he answered brightly, making her glad to see that the look in his eyes was back to normal. Like the other players, he'd changed out of his dirt-smeared training uniform for lunch, and was clad in clean sweatpants and a bright red T-shirt, which she hoped reflected a more cheerful state of mind.

She sat him down on a stool in front of a countertop, out of sight of the other players gradually filtering out of the dining area, and presented him with the cupcakes on a plate.

"Shh!" she whispered to him with a twinkle in her eye. "Don't tell your teammates. These are all for you – a special treat from me. Enjoy!"

The boy's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and his grin was as wide as she'd ever seen it. "For me? Thank you, ma'am! I never refuse dessert!"

"If you don't want to mess up your diet and your afternoon training by eating them all at once, I'll put the rest into a paper bag for you, so you can eat them later," she said, as the head cook, assistant cooks and dishwasher cast her questioning looks, no doubt wondering if something had happened for her to take Sawamura aside – the boy was a favourite with all of them, but they figured something unusual must have occurred for her to be spoiling him like this.

She wasn't sure if she should give them the details – some of her crew were not as restrained as she was, and she feared that if she told them the whole story, Ochiai would very soon be discovered on the verge of death in some Tokyo garbage dump site after having been extensively tortured with blunt forks, chopsticks and hot woks.

Sawamura devoured two cupcakes, pronounced them the best he had ever had, and happily received the remaining two "for teatime" in a doggy bag. By then, the canteen was empty, and the boy was glancing at the clock on the wall to make sure he wouldn't be late in returning to practice. No worries on that score – he had a quarter of an hour. And he wasn't the only one still in the vicinity, because Miyuki was walking back into the canteen now, obviously in search of him. The catcher hadn't changed back into his training gear yet – his head was bare, and he had on a royal-blue T-shirt and navy sweatpants.

"Sawamura," Miyuki said in a sober tone that the catering staff didn't usually hear him use in the canteen.

The manager made herself busy in the kitchen and flashed a warning look at her crew to stay put too, because Miyuki looked like he had something important to say to the pitcher, and if it was about the awful incident this morning, she didn't want to be in their way.

She could still see and hear them from where she was working, but she tried to look as occupied as possible with soaping and scrubbing, as she wanted to give them space. She'd been watching them for months, and had noticed that Chris-kun – who no longer ate in this canteen after the third-years' retirement from the baseball team – seemed to be hanging back for now, leaving the field to Miyuki where Sawamura was concerned; the cackling Kuramochi boy too had appeared of late to be giving his classmate some room for manoeuvre.

So Miyuki was being given his chance with Sawamura, and if he messed it up – or worse, if he messed Sawamura up, she would rap him over his pretty head with her heaviest wooden ladle, the consequences be damned.

"I just asked Kariba about this morning," Miyuki said, without so much as a shadow of his usual smirks or grins as he walked up to the first-year, who had stopped in his tracks by the side wall of the dining area when the older boy had first called his name.

"Yeah?" Sawamura was eyeing Miyuki rather warily, as if he wasn't sure that he wanted to talk to him alone.

"Don't ever do that again," the catcher told him, speaking low and firmly, fixing his brown eyes on his teammate as he stood directly in front of him.

"Do what?" Sawamura asked, cautiously.

"Don't ever be so shaken again that you believe it when someone tells you you're of no worth. Not ever again." Miyuki was keeping the volume and steadiness of his speech controlled, but the manager could hear the undertone of fury threatening to turn his voice shaky – she could identify it because she herself had swallowed a bucketful of that very same rage earlier to keep it under wraps. "Anyone can say anything, but don't you ever believe such words again."

She thought that at this show of support, Sawamura would blush, or laugh, or perhaps cry – as she'd seen him do at random moments. But to her surprise, he offered none of those expected reactions. Instead, he glared at Miyuki and growled: "Well, at least Droopy Brows was honest enough to tell me exactly what he was thinking, unlike _some people_."

Sawamura made to leave, but Miyuki, with all the swiftness of his athletic reflexes, slammed his palms against the wall on either side of Sawamura's head, forcing the pitcher back against that unyielding surface.

"Miyuki! W-what the hell…" Sawamura stammered.

Miyuki leaned in until his face was close to the pitcher's, the extra inch-and-a-half of height he had allowing him to tilt his head slightly down towards Sawamura, so their foreheads were almost brushing.

"I don't know how to do this," Miyuki muttered.

"Wh-what?"

"You were right."

"Huh?"

"You were right," Miyuki murmured. "About me not being honest with you. But I don't know how to do this – how to say or not say what I want to. There are things I can't utter because I'm afraid they'll mess you up, or that voicing them will mess _me_ up, or they're things I shouldn't say because for some reason I can barely grasp, I've wound up as the captain of this team and I don't know how, but I'm now actually _responsible_ for the lot of you."

"Miyuki…" Sawamura whispered, wide-eyed, startled, looking into those keen eyes a breath away from his own.

"Give me time. Will you do that? I want us not to mess up our autumn campaign. I want me not to mess up being the captain. I want me not to mess _you_ up. Just… just let me be that usual snarky, nasty self that annoys you so much, for a bit longer? Until I see a way not to screw things up beyond repair?"

By now, the manager and her crew, despite their best efforts at restraint in the beginning, had caved in and were jammed in a crush in the kitchen doorway, fairly gawking.

Sawamura stared at Miyuki in astonishment, lost for words. Then his eyes softened, he swallowed a lump in his throat, and he slowly tipped his head forward to touch his forehead to Miyuki's.

They stayed that way for several long seconds before Sawamura said softly: "I'm pretty sure I'm not smart enough to understand everything you're saying, but I can feel that you mean every word."

"So…"

"S-so I'll wait. You can be as bloody annoying as you like until you sort out whatever that mess is in your head."

"And if you don't like hearing what I have to say when I'm ready to say it…?"

"We'll just… well, we'll just deal with it when it happens."

"In the meantime…"

"In the meantime, you'll irritate the hell out of me and I'll rattle every bone in your body when I grab you by the collar and shake the nastiness out of you."

"Sounds like a plan."

"And… and I'll let you call me stupid all you like but I won't believe you any more."

"Uh-uh – that's always a fact – you _are_ pretty stupid," Miyuki smirked.

"Miyuki Kazuya, you bastard."

"Let's return to practice, idiot. We'll be late."

"Yeah? And who's the one who held me up here?"

"Is that chocolate cake I smell in that doggy bag?"

"Mitts off my cupcakes. They're mine."

Miyuki grinned and huffed, pushed himself back away from Sawamura and the wall, and walked beside the pitcher, bumping shoulders every few steps, as they left the canteen.

The catering manager and her crew inhaled again after having unconsciously held their breaths for about a minute, and she went back to work with the goofiest smile she'd allowed on her face in ages.

It looked like she wouldn't need to bring out that heavy wooden ladle after all.

But Ochiai would still be getting the more-salt-than-rice and fermented-anchovy-smoothie special treatment. Because it was always a bad idea to hurt the darling of people who had any say over what you put into your mouth.


	12. Wild Talk

**Wild Talk**

* * *

In which Takashima simply listens in

* * *

"Furuya-kun, Kominato-kun – time's up," Takashima called to the two first-years, one seated on a chair in the bullpen, the other in the batting area.

Their responses were predictable, and identical: "But I feel fine, Takashima-sensei."

Of course they would say that. And of course they had to be sternly ordered off to the benches under the trees near the home-dugout end of the A training grounds to sit down, hydrate, and rest.

Furuya was the major worry. After injuring a collateral ligament in his right foot during the game with Ugumori High on Sunday, he was barred from running, and from pitching while standing. Takashima had to make sure he _remained_ seated while pitching, and wasn't overcompensating with his upper-body muscles because he couldn't throw on his feet. She was limiting him to 25 minutes' pitching in each hour of training.

Kominato Haruichi was only a slightly less worrying case right now – he'd had a fever last night and woken up to congested sinuses this morning – and hadn't admitted it. They'd found out early enough to take precautions only because Oota had caught him blowing his nose several times during lesson hours and demanded the truth from him. It seemed to be clearing up now, and the fever was gone. But Kataoka wasn't allowing him to run or take part in today's fielding training, because if it turned out to be a cold or the flu after all, then too much physical exertion would put excessive strain on the boy's heart muscles.

Takashima hoped it was nothing – the game with Ouya Metropolitan was in three days; they needed their first-choice second baseman to be fighting fit. In the meantime, he was only allowed batting practice – and Takashima was limiting him to 20 minutes an hour, with plenty of hydration and rest in between.

But these two obstinate kids would overdo things if not closely supervised, seeing that they had the bullpen and the batting cages all to themselves while their teammates fielded and ran. So Takashima had roped in Natsukawa Yui to watch Furuya, and positioned Yoshikawa Haruno in the batting area, to keep an eye on them.

It was on their second enforced break that the student-managers went off to attend to the second-string players doing base-running drills at the B grounds. Takashima left with them, but came back after a few minutes to check on the boys. She found them sitting there obediently, silently watching their first-string teammates running round the A field. She stayed quietly in the background, looking out over the scene, taking a break herself. The boys probably didn't realise she was there, or maybe had forgotten that she would return, because after a period of silence, Furuya asked Haruichi out of the blue:

"Does Zono-senpai ever touch you?"

"Zono-senpai… _touch_…? Ehhh… Furuya-kun, what kind of question is that?" Haruichi asked, sounding taken-aback, head swivelling on his deceptively fragile-looking neck to peer enquiringly up at the tall pitcher through his long, rosy bangs.

"He doesn't, then?" Furuya asked in his usual monotone.

"Uhhh… not in any specific way which would make such a big impression on me that I'd immediately think of it here and now. You're asking because…"

"Because my roommates have never touched me."

Takashima counted three beats of silence. Then Haruichi said slowly, as if he was addressing someone who was a little… _slow_: "Yeeesss, I would think they never have."

"So we're not the odd ones."

"Odd how?"

"I'm wondering if it's normal for one's senpai roommates to grab one and… touch. Off the field."

Even from the back, Takashima saw from the younger Kominato's posture that a lightbulb had gone on in his head as he nodded with understanding and stated: "It isn't. Unless you're Eijun-kun and Kuramochi-senpai's your roommate."

Furuya's lack of an immediate reply told Takashima – and Haruichi, no doubt – that the example provided was the very one on the pitcher's mind. A thoughtful 30 seconds later, Furuya spoke again, softly: "I'm not very good with people."

"Uh-huh," Haruichi gave a perfunctory nod as he watched the runners, not even looking at Furuya, as if the pitcher's understatement was a given. (Takashima's sentiment exactly.)

"I don't always know how to get along with them."

"Uh-huh." Another perfunctory nod.

"I like animals."

"Yup – everyone knows those Animal Kingdom volumes are pretty much a fixture under your arm outside of baseball practice," Haruichi chuckled, still watching their teammates run.

"Which is why I notice all this peculiar behaviour."

"Eh?"

"Even when people think I'm too sluggish to be awake to see it."

The sakura head finally rotated back in Furuya's direction for Haruichi to ask: "Er… are we talking about animals right now?"

"Animal behaviour – in our baseballers."

"Uh… huuuh…?" Haruichi began, hesitantly, with a questioning upward lilt.

"Bonding behaviour within the pack."

"Nothing unusual in a baseball team."

"Courtship behaviour," Furuya said without any modulation whatsoever to his tone.

_Ah,_ thought Takashima. _Even Furuya, aka Spaced-out Monster Kitten-kun, has noticed?_

"Cour… what?"

"That's why I asked if Zono-senpai ever touches you the way Kuramochi-senpai touches Sawamura."

"Furuya-kun, would you please begin at the beginning? I think I'm a little lost here, to put it mildly."

"Our third-year senpai are in other rooms now."

"Is this the beginning I asked you to begin at? What has this to do with courtship behaviour?"

"It's a preamble," Furuya stated matter-of-factly.

"Right. Preamble," Haruichi echoed, a little impatiently. "Third-year senpai in other rooms in the dorm – yup, I know that – they're rooming with other third-years now as they prepare for the final exams."

"But they still wander over when they need a break from their revision."

"They do. Aniki drops in occasionally."

"And senpai like Tetsu-san who don't live in the dorms still come by sometimes before going home for the day."

"So…"

"Last night, Jun-san and Tetsu-san were in Miyuki-senpai's room again. Miyuki-senpai summoned Sawamura and me. He said it was so they could give us fielding advice. But I think he just wanted us to keep them company while he played a video game with Kuramochi-senpai."

"Uhhh… Furuya-kun, Jun-san had better not have asked you to massage his legs again because, first, he's not playing baseball now, and second, your foot is injured." (Again, Takashima's sentiments exactly.)

"He didn't. He knows about my foot. He offered to massage my feet instead while he talked about making the most of a strong pitching arm in the outfield."

"Did you take him up on his offer?"

"Yes, he gave me a lot of advice about outfield work."

"The _massage_, I mean," Haruichi said impatiently.

"No."

"I would have!" Haruichi chuckled. "I suppose Eijun-kun, on the other hand, had to play shougi with Tetsu-san?"

"Yes. After he'd given me enough pointers, Jun-san left, saying he had much more studying to do than Tetsu-san did. Kuramochi-senpai and Miyuki-senpai were still at their game, and Sawamura and Tetsu-san were still playing. I should have left, but I felt sleepy, so I leaned against the wardrobe and dozed off."

"Then what happened?"

"When I opened my eyes, Tetsu-san was gone. Kuramochi-senpai had put away his video game and was teasing Sawamura."

"About what?"

"About how only a first-class idiot like him could overcome his inside-corner pitching phobia in the bullpen right before the Nanamori game without even knowing that he had done it." This came out so uncharacteristically smoothly from Furuya that it was obvious he was quoting Kuramochi, probably verbatim.

"He had a point there. And he'd be the most surprised, since I hear Eijun-kun's unconsciously-done inside-corner pitch almost burnt a trail-line across the front of Kuramochi-senpai's shirt!" Haruichi snickered.

"He also teased Sawamura about how warm and friendly he had been to Coach Ochiai after the Nanamori match. If Ochiai hadn't responded civilly, he said, or if he'd tried anything funny with Sawamura again, he and the other senpai would have arranged a 'batting accident' for Ochiai."

"Protective, isn't he?"

"Sawamura was looking a bit worked up, so Kuramochi-senpai then teased him about how his eyes go cat-like when he gets agitated."

"Ha ha! It's true – they do!" Haruichi laughed. "So is this what you meant by animal behaviour?"

"No."

"Then…"

"Well, Kuramochi-senpai said Sawamura should get rid of the cat-eyed impression, as it was a tell – opponents would know when he was upset. But Miyuki-senpai said it was fine, because Sawamura wears all his feelings on his sleeve anyway. Kuramochi-senpai laughed and said that for once, Miyuki and Zono were actually in agreement about something, and the captain could now fight his _other_ vice-captain for a change, over this cat-eyed matter."

"Wait a minute – was he implying that Miyuki-senpai had fought with _Zono-senpai_ over something else?" Haruichi asked with a concern that echoed Takashima's. _Was there dissent amongst the leaders of the team?_

"Yes. Sawamura asked that question too, and Kuramochi-senpai said: 'Didn't Kanemaru tell you? He was there. Zono finally got mad enough with this annoying fellow here to do exactly what _you_ do to him all the time – you know, grab him by the shirt and shake him. Some of the second-years were worried that Zono was going to punch Miyuki's pretty little face, but I know Zono – he has more sense than that, even if he gets emotional sometimes. I'm just telling you, Bakamura, because you deserve to know that your captain is starting to satisfy his masochistic urges with someone other than you.'"

"Ehhh?" Haruichi exclaimed. "Kuramochi-senpai said all that? And you actually remembered it all…"

"I might be paraphrasing a bit. My memory for words isn't that good."

"Which explains your test scores. But what happened then?"

"Sawamura looked upset. He said the team should pull together as a team and not fight among ourselves."

"Eijun-kun actually said something sensible for once!"

"But then Kuramochi-senpai said the disagreement was cleared up now – something about Watanabe-senpai confirming that he was happy to do what he'd been asked to help with. Kuramochi-senpai then said it was good the disagreement was resolved, because 'it's been _days_, and everyone's on tenterhooks when the parents quarrel'."

"Oh… Miyuki-senpai can't have liked that," Haruichi smiled.

Furuya replied in a monotone: "He didn't. Miyuki-senpai went: 'Oi, oi, who are the parents here?'"

"And…?"

"And Kuramochi-senpai said: 'You're Daddy, naturally. And mother-hen Zono has to be Mummy'. That was when Sawamura looked at Kuramochi-senpai and asked: 'If Miyuki Kazuya is Daddy and Zono-senpai is Mummy, then who are _you_?' And Miyuki-senpai smirked and said to Sawamura: 'Kuramochi's the mistress, of course.'"

Haruichi snorted, and Takashima almost did too, but she kept quiet and listened on as the younger Kominato added: "And Eijun-kun's their illegitimate idiot child! What did Kuramochi-senpai do then?"

"He grabbed Sawamura and pinned him to the floor with a wrestling move," Furuya stated.

"Eh? But it wasn't Eijun-kun who called him a bit on the side."

"That's exactly what Sawamura said in protest. And this was where I really started paying attention–"

"You weren't paying attention _before_ then?" Haruichi demanded.

"Not really. This was where I started paying attention, because Kuramochi-senpai replied to Sawamura's protests by saying: 'Ah, but _you're_ the best way to get at Miyuki, don't you know?'"

"What? What did Miyuki-senpai do? Or say?"

"He glared at Kuramochi-senpai. I was paying attention now because the way it looked to me kept shifting – like those trick images where the drawing doesn't change, yet your brain sees one thing first, then another."

"Shifting how?"

Furuya seemed to grow more fluent when describing visual impressions rather than verbal exchanges, because he said fairly fluidly: "First it looked like Miyuki-senpai and Kuramochi-senpai were two predators about to fight over one fresh kill – Sawamura. Then it shifted and suddenly looked like Kuramochi-senpai was going through a courtship ritual of presenting food – Sawamura – to his intended mate – Miyuki-senpai. Then it shifted again and looked like Kuramochi-senpai was actually trying to court the one he had in his jaws, so to speak – Sawamura – and kind of taunting his rival – Miyuki-senpai – about it. Then it shifted again, and…"

"Wait, wait – this is where the animal courtship behaviour comes in, right? The preamble is over?"

"The preamble is over."

"If this is how you go about your assignments, you've got to write shorter essay intros and provide more substance, Furuya-kun."

"But you asked me to begin at the beginning."

"My fault completely. I'll never do that again. Now describe what happened next – in detail!"

"The scenario of the predator courting the one in his jaws now came into focus. Because Kuramochi-senpai sort of shifted his wrestling hold on Sawamura."

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of pinning him to the floor with his legs and using a choke-hold on his throat, he kind of… pulled Sawamura up and back a bit while inching back along the floor until he could lean against the chest of drawers, so Sawamura was now… umm… leaning back against Kuramochi-senpai's front, with Kuramochi-senpai's legs wrapped around his hips, his feet holding Sawamura's legs down, and his arms around Sawamura's upper arms and chest. And he was looking at Miyuki-senpai the whole time, taunting him with a grin. Is that enough detail?"

"Ohh… oh. Uh-huh. Good detail. More, please."

"Miyuki-senpai didn't move, and he had a kind of strange little smile on his face, but he was glaring harder at Kuramochi-senpai. Sawamura was going ballistic, howling and threatening, and Kuramochi-senpai was saying he'd let him go if Sawamura would give him Wakana-chan's mailing address."

"Ah. The usual demand."

"Sawamura refused. He kept yelling and struggling, then Kuramochi-senpai lifted one hand to Sawamura's head and started to stroke his hair while still looking at Miyuki-senpai, and Sawamura sort of froze and went quiet."

"And then?"

"Then Kuramochi-senpai said to Sawamura while stroking his hair and grinning cheekily at Miyuki-senpai: 'I'm going to win Wakana-chan from you eventually – but in the meantime, I'll have to make do with you. And you're handy for getting at Miyuki. See what I mean? This gets to him, doesn't it? Can you tell? So who's really his _mistress_ here, I wonder?'"

"They did all that in front of you?" Haruichi sounded amazed.

Two seconds of silence. Then Furuya admitted rather morosely: "I think they forgot I was there."

Haruichi patted Furuya soothingly on the shoulder and said placatingly: "I'm sure they simply thought you were still asleep. You normally are. What happened then?"

"Sawamura went all red in the face, looking between Miyuki-senpai and Kuramochi-senpai. Then he finally unfroze and kicked out hard, breaking Kuramochi-senpai's hold. He sprang to his feet and pointed at Kuramochi-senpai and Miyuki-senpai in turn, spluttering and yelling: 'Cheetah-senpai! I've only _just_ got Miyuki Kazuya to be a bit more honest with me, but now _you're_ starting to weird me out too! And it was bad enough with him already, so stop it. Because I can only handle one of you – not both! You're both not being very captainly and vice-captainly right now!' He stomped out of Miyuki-senpai's room, and Miyuki-senpai went after him, giving Kuramochi-senpai one last glare. That was when they finally noticed my presence. Miyuki-senpai sort of flashed me a startled look, but his priority was obviously catching up with Sawamura. Kuramochi-senpai grinned at me and asked if I'd had a good nap. But he was a bit red in the face too – I think he'd really forgotten I was there."

"Wow."

"I left. I don't know where Sawamura and Miyuki-senpai went, but I suppose everything's fine between them. They've been… closer to each other lately."

Indeed, Takashima had noticed that Miyuki and Sawamura had bridged the distance – previously built out of teasing put-downs and annoyance – that had once been between them. They'd grown closer in ways she had not thought she'd see while they were still at Seidou. Miyuki had been looking at Sawamura with genuine fondness and warmth of late, he'd toned down the teasing, and he'd actually stood on the mound with Sawamura at the Ugumori game and shared a jolly good snicker with him when Sawamura had gone on in place of Furuya. Their body language at that moment had spoken volumes – they'd actually looked like a proper pair of friends there – two equals, instead of a catcher merely giving instructions to his pitcher.

Right now, things were obviously still fine, as the pack of runners started stretching out into a longer line, the fittest holding the front and those with the least stamina bringing up the rear. Sawamura – who'd started at the back according to hierarchy as a first-year – had moved up through the line as others dropped behind, and was now jogging beside Miyuki near the front, the two of them chuckling occasionally _(where did they even find the oxygen in their lungs to laugh like that while training so bloody hard?)_.

Affairs seemed to have normalised with Kuramochi as well – the shortstop had now caught up, and was slinging an arm cheekily around Sawamura's shoulders, only for Miyuki to push that arm off the pitcher. Sawamura, energetic as ever, turned about and jogged backwards for a while to grin and say something to Kuramochi, who promptly kicked both him and Miyuki.

"I also saw Miyauchi-senpai and Kawakami-senpai that night after leaving the room," Furuya said, calling Takashima's attention back to the conversation from her thoughts about Miyuki and Sawamura.

"Are we still on the animal-behaviour topic?" Haruichi asked.

"Yes. Miyauchi-senpai was in the sort of protective mode you see in males who've been rebuffed by the ones they're courting, but they're still hovering, protecting them, waiting until they can try again. He was hovering over Kawakami-senpai as they talked. They stopped talking when I got near them, but before they noticed me, I heard Miyauchi-senpai say: 'I felt helpless not being able to help you.' And I heard Kawakami-senpai say: 'I wanted really badly to just go to you and – I don't know – bawl, or something – but I didn't want you to think I was just using you.' Then Miyauchi-senpai saw me coming and they stayed quiet until I was too far away to hear anything else."

"Maybe you've been reading too much of that Animal Kingdom series. Miyauchi-senpai and Kawakami-senpai's situation could have been something else entirely different from… um… what went on in Miyuki-senpai's room."

"It looked like what it looked like," Furuya insisted quietly.

"You're not good at reading people, remember?"

"No, but it's different when they start behaving like animals."

"That sounds _so_ wrong coming out of your mouth, with that expressionless look of yours."

Another few minutes of silence, then Furuya spoke: "I'm not in love with Miyuki-senpai, you know. Even if some people do make snide remarks about me being besotted with him."

"If you say so."

"I _am_ obsessed with him as a pitcher who admires a brilliant catcher, but after what I saw in the room last night, I'm sure it's a different kind of obsession from Sawamura, Miyuki-senpai and Kuramochi-senpai's situation."

"In short, you've discovered that you don't actually have the hots for Miyuki-senpai outside of pitching and catching."

"Hnn."

"Who do you have the hots for, then? Please don't say it's the tyre you and Eijun-kun are always squabbling over."

"Takako-senpai is beautiful."

Haruichi grinned widely before forcing the grin to fade a bit so that he could pat Furuya on the shoulder in exaggerated consoling fashion: "You know she and Jun-san are an item, right?"

"I know."

"You should have asked Jun-san to let _her_ massage your feet last night!" Haruichi burst into laughter, abruptly shifting out of consolation mode.

Takashima raised an eyebrow as she saw Furuya do something she seldom saw him do in a social context – gearing up to take a dig back at someone. She watched and listened with interest as he quietly asked Haruichi: "Are you sure Zono-senpai doesn't touch you?"

"Of course he doesn't! I told you."

"Hmm."

"'Hmm' what?"

"Yes, I suppose it would have been a much more serious matter if he had."

"What would?"

"Another thing I heard in Miyuki-senpai's room earlier in the evening – while Jun-san and Tetsu-san were still there – was Kuramochi-senpai remarking how obsessive Ryou-san can be."

"Aniki? What's my aniki got to do with this?"

"You and Zono-senpai were in the indoor training facility recently, practicing your swings, and Zono-senpai was beside you. Ryou-san wasn't pleased…"

"Huh? Swinging practice there with Zono-senpai happens on hundreds of occasions, with the rest of the team all present too."

"Yes, but this time, it seems Zono-senpai said to you: 'You make swinging look easy.'"

"So?"

"So Ryou-san happened to be in the area, taking a break from his exam revision, and he overheard Zono-senpai. And Kuramochi-senpai complained that next thing he knew, Ryou-san was pulling him aside and asking weird things like: 'You know Zono well, don't you, since you're co-vice-captain with him? Would you know if he uses the word "swinging" as a euphemism for anything else – as in, does he say "swinging" when he means something other than lashing out at a ball with a bat? Does he use it in his pick-up lines?'"

"Ehhhh?!" Haruichi leaped to his feet, scarlet in the face, spluttering that he needed to have a talk with his older brother about not getting the wrong idea where there was NOTHING to get the wrong idea about.

Takashima really did laugh then, and the two boys turned to see her there, doing her best to straighten her features into their usual stern arrangement. Haruichi got even redder, and Furuya blushed, a light wash of pink across his cheekbones.

"Okay, you two can go back to practice for the next 20 minutes – that is, if you can find any space in the bullpen and batting area now that your teammates have finished their run," she said, not caring much that there was a distinct tone of mirth in her voice.

They hurried off, both still pink in the face, and Takashima sat herself down on the bench they had vacated, looking at the flock of players homing in on the batting cages and bullpen.

So Sawamura and Miyuki had come to an understanding. Kataoka had admitted that he'd told Miyuki to find his own way of reaching equilibrium in his dealings with Sawamura, since clamping down on his instincts had not produced good results for the battery or the team. Well, from what Takashima could see, it was good for Sawamura's game and confidence – he had overcome the yips, and looked ready to start the game against Ouya this Sunday.

But balance was a hard trick to master. Miyuki was stumbling in other ways now, failing to notice how deeply Furuya had sunk into a catatonic state during the rain delay in the Teitou game, failing to notice Furuya's foot injury during the Ugumori game, and struggling to adjust to his role as captain. As she had just learnt, he had apparently not been careful enough in his discussions with Watanabe Hisashi either, about doing the job of researching the team's opponents, and had almost come to blows with Maezono-kun over his handling of the issue.

Watanabe-kun, Kudou Yasushi and Higashio Shuuji had knocked on the door of the coaches' office the night before last, while she'd been there with Kataoka. That was when she and Kataoka had discovered how conflicted the three boys had felt – probably for a long time – about being on the team without being good enough to play in matches. So if Miyuki and Zono had quarrelled over this days ago, it must mean that Nabe-kun had previously approached Miyuki about it for assurance, and the captain probably hadn't thought through his manner of responding, leading to Zono becoming furious with him for not talking Nabe through his doubts.

Takashima shook her head slowly and adjusted her glasses. She wouldn't say anything for now. She would give things a chance to settle themselves down. There was a good possibility that Miyuki's current hiccups were the result of teething problems as he got used to the captaincy, and not the kind of faulty judgement he'd displayed against Inashiro when holding back his instincts with Sawamura. He'd been even more off-balance then, and it hadn't helped Sawamura either. At least if those two were finding balance _with_ each other, maybe things would work out for the team as a whole, and Miyuki would stabilise himself sooner rather than later. She only hoped he remembered to remain neutral in the way he treated all the players as the captain.

Come what may, she was certain at the very least that Miyuki's closeness to Sawamura _had_ helped the pitcher greatly as he clawed his way through the yips, and had also been a valuable support against Ochiai's apparent malice. (She had yet to get back at Ochiai for trying to damage her southpaw pitcher, but maybe the universe was getting its own back at him in some strange way, because she'd noticed that the man had been going completely off his food in recent days, and trotting to the toilet a lot. Karma – that's what it was – pure karma embodied in a stomach bug.)

All she could do until there were further developments was to wait and watch this bunch of cats. If Miyuki screwed up by allowing his personal affairs to harm the team's performance, she would have to send Cheeky Cheshire-kun a painful wake-up call. And having heard what she'd heard, she guessed she could do that most efficiently by dropping a hint to Demon Cat Kominato Ryousuke-kun that Miyuki had used a naughty pick-up line on Haru-Kitty.

The solid karate-chop the captain would get on that good-looking head of his was bound to rap some sense back into him. And Demon Cat-attack or not, it would certainly be a less painful blow than the agony of letting that ticket to Koushien slip from their grasp once again.


	13. Driving Force

**Spoiler alert:** Includes some brief details about the matches with Nanamori, Ugumori and Ouya, which may or may not be too much information for those who haven't read manga chapters 261 to 327.

* * *

**Driving Force**

* * *

In which the Seidou team-bus driver steers things in certain directions

* * *

Anyone would assume he'd know the Seidou baseballers best from within the team bus. Surely he could enumerate the players' quirks as he drove them from school to stadium and back, for match after match over the course of each school year? Well, he did indeed know which kids tended to talk on the bus while heading out but were quiet coming back, who preferred to sit where and with whom, and which names were regularly yelled out in frustration by their teammates because they were always getting lost in search of a stadium toilet and late in returning to the bus, keeping everybody waiting.

But it was outside the bus that he saw the players and coaches in moments truer than the faces they presented when crammed together into a 30-seater vehicle, all bright, clean white-and-blue kit travelling out of Seidou, and earth-stained, bruised and scraped, smelling of sweat and sun and raw emotion, on the return journey.

When they alighted at the end of each weekend's round of games, grabbed their bags from the luggage compartment, thanked him and dispersed, you'd think he wouldn't see them again for the rest of the week. After all, he didn't work at the school. The school owned the bus – always had it parked on the grounds behind the baseballers' dormitory – and he was contracted to drive the team to and from matches.

However, Seidou's arrangement with his employer, a private-bus company, was that he should also come in on alternate weekdays to check the fuel, tyre pressure, brakes, lights, air-conditioning and battery, and clean the vehicle's exterior. The school didn't want to leave the bus sitting there untouched for days at a time only to find that it wouldn't start on a match day because the battery was dead.

Of course, after every game and return journey, he would clean the vehicle thoroughly inside and out. The kids were respectful of the shared space – he never had to deal with deliberately dirtied or damaged seats, or carelessly tossed food wrappers. But ferrying sporty teens who might just have been sliding about all over a field clogged with rain and mud meant stains were inevitable.

So he spent a good number of days and hours working at Seidou, going through the checks, calling for professional mechanical help if a problem arose, and having enough time between these regular appointments and his evening driving schedule to enjoy looking out over the sprawling school grounds, chatting with the security and maintenance staff, and – more often than they knew – just quietly listening to the students who would meet behind the dorm for a private word with each other.

It was also at this parking spot outside the chain-link fence running behind the dormitory and indoor training facility that he'd encountered Ochiai Hiromitsu about a month ago. He'd been wiping mud splatter from the previous night's rain off the paintwork one afternoon when Ochiai – whom he recognised as the specialist coach newly employed by the school – came skulking round the back of the dormitory. At first, he didn't notice the driver on the other side of the bus outside the fence. But the driver saw the other's feet from below the undercarriage, and watched as the man looked into corners and behind garbage bins, apparently searching for something.

He finally noticed the driver peering at him from around the front of the bus, and stared for a second, then nodded at him in greeting, and left the area.

On another occasion about a week later, Ochiai was there again. This time, the assistant coach stepped out through the gate in the chain-link fence to talk to him. They exchanged a few pleasantries (for want of a better word) – about baseball, kids and the weather. A few more rounds of this, and the driver soon pegged Ochiai's character – the man reminded him exactly of his own brother.

He could tell, within those few brief conversations on desultory topics, that the fellow was political, ambitious, calculating – the kind who took a cloak-and-dagger approach to a lot of things that didn't require such treatment. But he couldn't bring himself to condemn Ochiai as a control-hungry bastard and nothing else, because his elder brother was the same type of human being.

His brother could be brutal when in "purge, destroy and overthrow" mode at his corporate workplace, but all he needed was a quiet reminder about the fact of his own and others' humanity, and the unkindness of his actions, to stop, think, feel his way back, and reconsider his words and deeds.

In short, he could be cold and unkind, but he wasn't a monster. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to know that about him without knowing him well.

Ochiai, he guessed, was very much like that. Therefore, he wasn't surprised when he heard rumblings of discontent a little over a month after the new assistant coach's arrival. It was one of his security-staff friends who passed on the bit of gossip one day: the assistant cook had heard from the canteen manager, who had seen it for herself, that Ochiai had maliciously tried to damage the form of the team's left-handed first-year pitcher.

"You know, the noisy one with the big, bright eyes," the security man elaborated. "Sawamura."

"Ah – the one who's always getting lost while looking for the toilet," the driver nodded, recognising the boy's name and description.

"I wouldn't know about his track record with locating toilets, but he's quite a favourite with some of the staff here, and no one's very happy with Ochiai-san right now. If Kataoka-sensei weren't the kind of man who believes in giving people chances over and over again, Ochiai'd surely be out the door on his arse by now."

"Maybe Kataoka-kantoku sees value in him where others may not," the driver observed. "Or perhaps he wasn't the one who brought him in, so he may not have a say about whether he stays or goes."

"Maybe. But all I know is, I don't like the look of him – always skulking about as if he thinks he's in some spoof spy movie or something," grumbled the security man.

The driver pondered this piece of news. He was fond of Sawamura, despite his often keeping the bus waiting on his impatient bladder and dodgy sense of direction. The kid was a whole day of summer packed into a healthy teenage body, and he livened things up except when he was disappointed in his own performance on the field – then he would grow silent and it would feel as if all the rain clouds had come out. What a pity for any adult to carelessly damage such a radiant kid.

Thus, on the next match day, when he drove the team to Edogawa Stadium to play against Nanamori Academy, he kept an eye on Ochiai and Sawamura. Nothing much to note on the way there – the team was quietly mentally gearing up for the game. But after the match, from which Seidou emerged triumphant after a mere five innings, the driver didn't wait inside the bus as he normally did. Instead, he stood near where he could see the Seidou players starting to gather outside the stadium. Sawamura – for once among the earliest to be present and accounted for (perhaps a five-inning called game wasn't long enough to make him desperate for the loo?) – was chatting happily to a few teammates; Ochiai was standing alone near them, watching and listening.

Then Sawamura noticed Ochiai observing him, and the driver wondered what the boy would do. Be sarcastic to the assistant coach who had treated him badly? Ignore the man? Look afraid of him and shuffle away?

He did none of those things. Instead, he cheerfully said to Ochiai with a genuine smile that if he wanted to join their conversation, he would have to come closer.

It warmed the driver's heart, and he heard Ochiai remark to Sawamura that he was a strange pitcher. Wasn't he afraid of pitching to the inside before? he asked. How come he wasn't afraid now?

Sawamura had looked a little bashful as he replied honestly that he was still afraid, but even more so of never being able to pitch from the mound again.

At this point, Oota-buchou nodded to the driver that all the students were here, so he returned to the bus to open the door for them.

He drove them back to school and dropped them behind the dorm as usual, taking the private paved road which separated the two training fields on one side from the dorm and indoor training facility on the other. The students and coaches thanked him as they alighted, and filed through the gate in the chain-link fence to get to the baths and their rooms. Ochiai, however, loitered. He waited while the driver parked the bus, swept the floor of the vehicle and wiped the seats, then approached him when he emerged to clean the windscreen.

"You normally go the bus once you see the team gathering, and you wait there for us, don't you? But you decided to wait with the students today," Ochiai remarked, looking up at him where he was perched on his stepladder, applying a chamois to the glass.

They'd interacted enough, it seemed, for Ochiai to be comfortable about speaking so openly to him. Perhaps Ochiai could sense that he was one person who never judged him, and treated him like someone he knew well – which, in a sense, he did, because he always kept his elder brother in mind when he was talking to him.

"You're as observant as ever," the driver smiled, buffing a smudge off.

"So what was it that you wanted to keep an eye and ear on? You were listening when I was talking to the first-year pitcher, weren't you?"

The driver finished buffing the spot, lowered the chamois, and stepped down from the ladder to stand eye to eye with Ochiai, then said evenly: "I only want to say this: He's a good kid – good to the core – kind and with no deceit in him. Kids like that should be treasured."

"Ahhh… so that's it, is it?" Ochiai moved his hand from his chin to his hair and looked thoughtful. "Well, I'll not deny that he's surprised me more than once with his openness, but that has nothing to do with whether he belongs on the team, and I'm not convinced that he does. Although after today's performance, maybe he isn't a lost cause."

The assistant coach then looked off to the side, as if his eyes were tracking a train of thought.

The driver stated: "Who belongs on the team is for you to determine, not the likes of me. But remember that he's just a child, a good one at that."

"Mmm… maybe so, but I'm also not sure about his effect on the other players. The way some of the other boys look at him… I don't think it's healthy."

The driver had driven Seidou players around for years enough, and tinkered with the bus long enough beside that chain-link fence, to hear and see all sorts of things that sometimes went on between some boys.

"Ah," he said. "If you mean what I think you mean – at this age, lots of boys develop the oddest interest in other boys. Some grow out of it, some don't, but either way, I don't believe it matters, ultimately."

Ochiai kept silent for a while, then he nodded once and murmured an acknowledgement: "Mmm. I hear you."

Having said that, the assistant coach turned, walked back through the gate, and disappeared round the corner of the indoor facility.

The very next day, the driver had to get the team to Edogawa Stadium again, this time for their game against Ugumori High. The senior players – the second-years – were unusually silent during the ride. But Sawamura and most of the other first-years were the same as usual, so whatever had taken place probably had nothing to do with the kid, or the driver's talk with Ochiai. Perhaps the senior players had disagreed last night about team tactics, or had had some other dispute among themselves.

When the game began, he entered the stadium and stood at the back to watch Seidou battle it out through a surprisingly tough, close match, considering that Ugumori wasn't a big name in high-school baseball. When Seidou won, Oota-buchou quickly confirmed the driver's booking for next Sunday, to transport them to Meiji Jingu Secondary Stadium for their quarter-final match. The driver heard nothing further about the Sawamura matter that day, or during his weekday visits.

But when he dropped in on Saturday to make sure the bus was in good working order for the next day's crucial trip, two students came out to the back of the dorm, talking to each other – and that was how he got an update about the issue. He could hear the boys quite well from within the bus, as he had lowered the window by his driver's seat, which was on the side closest to the fence. The students probably had no idea he was there – he'd been cleaning the blinds earlier, so they were still down; even if they knew, they might not think he'd be able to hear them so clearly.

He recognised them both, as he'd driven them around for two and a half years. Third-year students, retired from the baseball team, but prominent faces in it when they'd been active: Tanba Kouichirou, the former ace, and Takigawa Chris Yuu, brilliant-catcher-turned-genius-manager. He'd seen Tanba play many a time. In more recent months, he'd also had Chris on the bus in a managerial-cum-coaching role, and seen him in stadium dugouts.

"You should have told me," Chris was saying to Tanba. They both stopped at a spot they found comfortable and leaned back against the rear wall of the building, standing side by side. Tanba slipped his hands into his pockets, and Chris propped up one foot against the base of the wall at their backs.

"You were struggling with those physics chapters that you said were giving you so much trouble. I didn't want you to be distracted," Tanba replied.

"So you sacrificed your own study hours to spare mine," Chris smiled ruefully.

Tanba, reddening a little, spoke with a curious mixture of shyness and confidence: "I was too tired to read any more. And I _was_ walking around trying to rest my eyes when I spotted Coach Ochiai ambushing Miyuki and Nabe from behind that vending machine, then tagging along with them to the indoor grounds, where I already knew Sawamura was – I'd heard him a mile away, complaining about his own idiocy to Kanemaru, Toujou and Kariba."

"I can picture the scene," Chris gave an amused huff.

"I was afraid that Coach Ochiai would do something to hurt Sawamura again, but I needn't have worried. You should have seen how wary and protective Miyuki was. He was questioning everything Ochiai was suggesting and watching him like a hawk. He agreed to cooperate only when he saw that Sawamura was up for it. Sawamura couldn't have had a better protector, so you have nothing to worry about."

"I have no doubt about that," Chris said softly and contemplatively, a comment to which Tanba seemed not to know how to respond. After a few seconds of silence, Chris asked: "None of them saw you near the doorway?"

"I wasn't standing in the doorway," Tanba explained. "I was moving around, walking up and down, walking past occasionally, but I could hear everything even when I didn't have my eyes on them. Anyway, there was quite a crowd in there – they probably wouldn't have noticed me for a while even if I _had_ stood in the doorway."

"Thank you, Tanba," Chris said with a gentle smile. "You still aren't telling me exactly what it was Ochiai was trying to teach Sawamura, by the way."

"I have a feeling Miyuki or Sawamura will want to show you that themselves, so I'll keep it a secret for them," Tanba's smile mirrored Chris'.

"You're the most thoughtful guy I know," Chris told him sincerely. "Thank you for making sure that Sawamura was okay, even though _I'm_ the one who worries about him."

"He's a great kid. I don't have the connection you do with him, but I like him – I'd just talked to him yesterday morning, in fact, outside the classrooms with Miyauchi and Ryou. I wouldn't want to see him harmed, especially not by Ochiai – remember how Tetsu was telling us that Ochiai had given him a really bad impression at their first meeting, after he'd heard from the principal about Kantoku leaving?"

"Hmm, yes. I remember that," Chris frowned. "But more interesting to me is the detail that Sawamura's grown even on _you_."

"What's with the 'even'?" Tanba asked, blushing a little more, and starting to mumble awkwardly. "As I said, he's a good kid. And if he's important to you, he's important to me."

"It means a lot to me to hear you say that. You don't mind that he's important to me?"

"Of course there's a part of me that minds, but he's special to you, and I respect that. I've told you, I'll wait – I'll wait for you," Tanba said softly, before adding, with a wry smile: "Besides, with our final exams about ten weeks away, this is hardly the right time, is it, to convince you to be head over heels for me?"

"Tanba…" Chris began, with surprise in his voice and eyes.

"Come on, let's get back to our books. We've taken a long enough break."

Tanba took a step towards the passageway between the dorm and the indoor training facility, but Chris reached out and grabbed his hand, causing Tanba to turn around, startled.

"Tanba," Chris said again, with a hint of a smile this time, as he leaned in, still holding his hand, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you once again."

"Chris…" Tanba's eyes were wide, his hand still clasped in Chris'. "I thought I… I don't…"

"For the record, yes, I agree that it's absolutely the wrong time with exams and all for me to be head over heels for _anyone_, really. And yes, I still have things to work out with… others. But I don't think there's a wrong time for me to say that I appreciate you, and while I can't be head over heels for you… yet… I can say from the bottom of my heart that I am more than a little… would 'charmed' be the right word?"

"Chris, you…" Tanba spoke, his cheeks flushed, unsure how to go on. Then he seemed to collect himself, and he continued with a serious expression in his eyes but a smile on his lips: "You do know that if I fail my exams, I'm blaming your teasing me like this."

"I'll take the blame like a man."

"You'd better. Now let go of my hand – Oota-sensei is coming this way from the practice fields."

"Oh, he won't mind us…"

"Chris, seriously – he'll have a heart attack – he's crossing the road already. Let go."

"No."

"_Now_."

"Chicken."

"Flirt."

They released each other, greeted Oota-buchou politely as the club president strode through the gate in the chain-link fence, and they walked with him between the dorm and indoor facility until they were lost to the driver's line of sight.

So it seemed that Ochiai was teaching Sawamura things that team captain Miyuki Kazuya had allowed – which meant they wouldn't do the boy harm. That was good, thought the driver. It was time Ochiai-san learnt to get along with people he might have initially dismissed as useless, and also time for the team to learn that maybe the man wasn't as much of an evil demon as they might like to believe he was.

As for the other matter that Tanba and Chris had been discussing, the driver was able to hear more the next day, when he took the team to Meiji Jingu Secondary Stadium for their quarter-final against Ouya Metropolitan. It turned out to be a tough, exciting fight full of strategic moves and counter-moves that both teams had to have put a lot of brain-power into coming up with. At the end, Seidou were the victors, and Oota-buchou booked him again for Saturday's trip to the semi-finals at the same stadium.

The driver had been informed in advance that the players would be watching the match after their own, between Seiko High and Sensen Academy. So he was walking out of the stadium to find a place to sit down and have a cup of tea when he saw Sawamura and Chris together outside the stadium entrance, standing near a pillar and having a conversation. Chris wasn't the only retired third-year who'd made his own way here – former captain Yuuki Tetsuya was present too, with Kadota Masaashi and Sakai Ichirou. Yuuki was talking to his successor, Miyuki, and Kadota and Sakai were chatting with a few of the second-years.

The driver moved as inconspicuously as he could to the other side of the thick concrete pillar beside which Sawamura and Chris were talking, in time to hear Chris say: "… as I said earlier, you've done very well to add another weapon to your growing arsenal. You really have grown stronger, in so many ways."

"It's all thanks to your guidance, Shishou!" Sawamura declared earnestly.

"Not _all_ thanks to me. I understand that Coach Ochiai had a lot to do with this latest development."

"Yes! Bushy Brows Ochiai-kochi was very patient in teaching me! And… and Miyuki Kazuya too…" Sawamura's voice was softer when he spoke Miyuki's name. The driver wondered why he didn't call the captain "Miyuki-senpai" like the other first-years did.

"Sawamura, your Miyuki-_senpai_ has done a lot more than you know to help you through this tough time," Chris said.

"Miyuki K…senpai… has been great," Sawamura sounded unaccountably shy. The driver couldn't see him, but he could imagine him turning pink around the cheekbones. "He's been so, um, so… _different_ towards me of late."

The driver would have expected Chris' next question to be something like _"Different how"_? But Chris didn't ask that. Instead, he asked carefully: "Do you _like_ the way he's been different towards you? Tell me honestly."

"It's… it's – I guess – nice? No, I mean, _yes_ – I _do_ like the way he's been with me recently."

"Would you be happy if he were to continue this way, even to a greater degree than this?" Chris asked.

"Uhm… Chris-senpai, why do I feel that everyone's talking in riddles these days? You're starting to get me all lost the way Miyuki Kaz – Miyuki-_senpai_ – does, saying all kinds of odd things I'm not sure I fully get. But from what little I _am_ starting to get, I think I can say that, yeah, I guess I would like him to carry on this way."

"That's what I wanted to know. I wanted to confirm that you were happy with this."

"Whatever 'this' is…?" Sawamura asked.

"Whatever 'this' is."

Their tete-a-tete ended when someone else came up to them, and Sawamura went back into the stadium. The driver moved out from behind the pillar to see that Yuuki Tetsuya was now talking to another group of players, and Chris was with Miyuki.

He moved close enough to them to hear Chris say to Miyuki: "Thank you for giving me time to say, well, a sort of goodbye to him in this way."

"Nothing that you wouldn't have done for me, Chris-senpai, had our places been reversed," Miyuki said, gazing at the older student.

"Are you sure about that?" Chris asked.

"Ha – Chris-senpai – I'm not sure that I'm too sure about a lot of things these days."

"You're even beginning to _sound_ like Sawamura," Chris joked. "It's starting to worry me."

The driver had seen before how Miyuki looked whenever Chris would offer to sit next to him on the team bus – indeed, how he had always generally looked at Chris with wistful respect. He still looked at his senior catcher with that same respect, but with a good deal less of the wistfulness these days – that particular expression was now apparently reserved for Sawamura, in combination with a mischievous smile.

Miyuki now grinned at Chris, and answered: "The two of us will be your kouhai responsibility from now until the end of time."

"Ah. Really, now? But since we're talking about the future, let me say here and now that if Sawamura ever says he's no longer happy with whatever his situation may be with you, I may move back into the picture and knock you right out of the frame."

"Oh?" Miyuki grinned even more widely. "I'm not sure _Tanba-san_ will be happy to hear you say that."

"I don't know about that," Chris smiled. "Sawamura's growing on Tanba too – he just told me in all seriousness that he _likes_ Sawamura. I think he won't mind too much if I bring Sawamura home to him, so to speak."

Miyuki's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to blurt out: "What? As if there aren't already enough people going after Sa…" Then he stopped short, shut his mouth, looked keenly at Chris, realised he was being teased, and said in a flat tone: "You're totally having me on, aren't you, Chris-senpai?"

"Of course I am."

"Of course. There's no way in this lifetime you'd propose a threesome between you, Tanba-san and Sawamura."

"That's a bit judgemental, coming from someone who not that long ago proposed a _foursome _to me right outside Sawamura's dorm room."

"I was drunk with sleep."

"Excuses."

Yuuki called to Chris just then to ask if he was heading back to the school with them, and Chris took his leave.

The driver went off to have his cup of tea and to think about all he'd heard. When, after the end of the Seiko-Sensen match, he drove the Seidou team back, he wasn't entirely surprised to find Ochiai loitering again, waiting to talk to him.

"You were hanging around outside the stadium again this afternoon," the assistant coach remarked, when everyone else had left the bus.

"I was indeed," he admitted freely.

"Learn anything of interest?"

"I did," he said.

"Care to share it with me?" Ochiai asked seriously, stroking his chin.

"And contribute to your plans for world-domination? I don't think so, Ochiai-san," he replied with a chuckle.

"Hmph. You're a funny one."

"And you, Ochiai-san, are more reasonable than most people would give you credit for. Thank you for all the good you have done Sawamura and the other kids. I hope you continue to help them."

Ochiai scratched his head, looked curiously at the driver, then gave up trying to figure him out and bade him a good day before strolling through the gate in the chain-link fence and disappearing round the corner of the indoor facility.


	14. Night Watch

**Night Watch**

* * *

In which the security guard is witness to a mixed bag of emotions

* * *

From day one of his posting to Seidou High, the security guard learnt that this was a baseball-crazy school whose students constantly put themselves in danger. The kids insisted on jogging all over the sprawling grounds and moving between the dorm, training fields and indoor facility into the early hours of the morning. One or two would even sit outdoors on the stairs across the paved road from the back of their dorm so they could stare out over the fields – at two in the morning.

Heaven forbid that some intruder with murder, rape or abduction on his mind should sneak into the grounds one night and ambush an insomniac player. Or hide in the dorm until everyone was asleep, break into a room, and hurt the kids. That was the security team's worst nightmare.

Since it was impossible to secure every foot of the perimeter without a small army on 24-hour duty, they focused on general entry points in the day, and made sure all visitors who came to watch the team train or play practice matches left the premises after each session unless accompanied by a staff member. At night, they concentrated their resources on the main gate, dorm, indoor training area, the two fields, and the private road running between the fields on one side and the dorm and indoor facility on the other.

Only the players, authorised staff members like the coaches, club president, principal, vice-principal, selected teachers on duty and – in special circumstances – the maintenance crew, were permitted into the dormitory compound and indoor facility after dark. In the daytime, a few others like the student-managers and administrators could enter when games and team meetings were scheduled.

At first, he found the responsibility unnerving. But by now, years later, he'd become used to the job – and the non-life-threatening but definitely entertaining incidents that tended to mark the night shift (like the time the principal almost had a stroke during one of his incognito inspections because he mistakenly thought the players were engaged in a wild orgy).

As it turned out, the run-up to Seidou's semi-final against Seiko High on 23rd October was fairly eventful. Two evenings before the match, he started his shift as the baseballers held a meeting after what his colleagues told him had been an exciting intra-team game umpired by Yuuki Tetsuya, with the regular starters coached by Ochiai and the reserve first-stringers coached by Kataoka.

One of the first to leave the post-game meeting in the canteen was second-year pitcher Kawakami Norifumi, emerging with so downcast an expression on his face that he must have had a rough time with the analysis of his performance. But retired third-year catcher, Miyauchi Keisuke, was waiting for him at the dorm – to the security staff, they were by now a familiar pair, often meeting in private.

"…I had to swallow some hard truths from Nabe," the guard heard Kawakami saying when he patrolled the area they were in – the far end of the dorm wing furthest from the indoor facility. The two kids sat on the veranda steps.

"Was Nabe right?" Miyauchi asked.

"Right on target. Surprisingly, Miyuki was softer on us after the game – he actually thought all of us regular pitchers did well. But Nabe was more blunt with me – he said Furuya and Sawamura did well, but I didn't. I've got a lot of work to do on the sinker, and I let myself get rattled by the batters."

The guard stopped a little way off from where they were to hear what Miyauchi would say to cheer Kawakami up.

"It's brave of you to even try pitching the sinker at all after it failed you so badly last year. Don't shy away from your weak areas; know them and strengthen them," Miyauchi said simply.

"It's not just areas I'm weak in – I'm falling so far behind Furuya and Sawamura, who seem to advance by the day," Kawakami grimaced. "I need a workable breaking ball to keep up with them."

"Is that your main motivation? Catching up with a pair of freakishly talented kouhai?"

"Well, I am starting to feel left behind."

"It's fine to benchmark yourself against others, but it's more important to grow stronger for yourself, regardless of who else is around."

"During tough moments, though, it's hard to remember why I keep working so hard – unless I'm driven by someone younger than me outstripping me by miles."

"I know how you feel. We've always grown as a team, worked for the team, and pushed ourselves to outdo our teammates even before our opponents. But since retiring, I've realised that all those times when I knew I'd never be better in Kantoku's eyes than Chris and Miyuki, I trained till I dropped anyway, because I wanted to be _my_ best, even if it meant I could never surpass my rivals."

"Miya-senpai…"

"I never wanted to turn into someone who wouldn't push harder just because I wouldn't win the race."

"You never stopped pushing yourself to the limit – I always admired that. It's given me so much strength all this time."

"Has it? That's good. But I want to tell you that I also didn't want to become someone in future who might be complacent if I should find myself being the best at what I do – and I wouldn't want you to be like that either. Not pushing yourself because you're way ahead is as bad as not pushing yourself because you think you'll never catch up. I hope you'll always have that internal desire to grow stronger in all areas of your life instead of looking to others for that drive."

"I'll remember that. Although there'll never be a time when I'm the best at what I do," Kawakami sighed. "I'll always be catching up."

"You're better than you think."

"I could say the same for you."

"Oh, I already know I'm bloody good."

Kawakami laughed then, and the gloomy clouds gathering over him dispersed.

"Miya-senpai, you always know how to make me feel better, even when you're in the middle of exam prep and have better things to do than to talk to me," he chuckled.

Miyauchi gave a huff and said: "There are few things I'd rather do than talk to you."

"Likewise. It's not only because you always make me feel better – I just really like it, talking to you like this."

Another pleased huff, and Miyauchi rose, saying: "Hmm. We'll talk again tomorrow. I have to get back to my revision, and you need to get some rest. You have a big match coming up on Saturday."

"Which I may not even play in," Kawakami laughed.

"I know it hurts not to play. But whatever you do or don't play in makes no difference to how I see you as the sidearm pitcher I'd drop every other pitcher to play with in a heartbeat – here, or at uni in future, or as a pro."

He turned to go, but Kawakami took three quick steps to catch up with him, and wrapped his arms around Miyauchi from behind, pressing his face to his broad right shoulder. Miyauchi always looked so much bigger than Kawakami that it was surprising to see, when they were standing close together, that Kawakami was really only an inch or so shorter.

"Thank you, Miyauchi-senpai," Kawakami whispered, a slight tremor in his voice.

Miyauchi didn't move for a few moments. When at last he stirred, it was to carefully turn halfway round in Kawakami's arms and to press a single kiss to the top of the pitcher's head before muttering "good night" and walking briskly away to his room. Kawakami watched him go, then left for his own room, taking the other staircase, with a blush on his cheeks and a gentle smile.

The security team had figured out that Miyauchi had a sort of unrequited crush on the younger kid… who now, at last, seemed to be opening his mind to the idea of exploring possibilities he might have previously drawn a line against.

More incidents occurred that night, however, that weren't as calm or heartwarming as Kawakami's talk with Miyauchi. About fifteen minutes after those two had parted, Miyuki Kazuya and Kuramochi Youichi came along, with Kuramochi demanding snappishly: "What was with you being so damn _nice _about the team's performance today, huh? It's not like you to just go 'yeah, everybody did well'. I can't believe Nabe – _Nabe_, of all people – is actually being harder on the pitchers than you are. Poor Nori looked like a kicked puppy after his appraisal."

"Really? But they've put their all into it, and I only want them to continue doing exactly that for the final two matches, so we can take Kantoku to Koushien and convince him to stay," Miyuki said breezily. "Nori's only just relearning the sinker. His performance wasn't as good as Furuya's and Sawamura's today because I kept pushing him for that pitch even when we both knew it wasn't polished."

Kuramochi scowled. "I can _hear_ the words coming out of your mouth, but they jar so much with everything I know about you, it's almost like I can't understand their meaning – it's weird," he grumbled, glancing suspiciously at Miyuki. "It's _him_, isn't it? Bakamura – he's _infecting_ you with all his sweetness."

"Rubbish."

"You're letting him right in where you haven't let anyone before, and it's eating all your unpleasantness out of you."

"Nonsense."

"And you're walking me back to my room like a gentleman because you're actually looking for _him_, aren't you?" Kuramochi cackled, face splitting into a hyena grin.

"I'm walking my _favourite_ deputy captain back to his room because I don't trust him out of my sight," Miyuki said sarcastically.

"You mean you still don't trust me not to jump Sawamura's bones the moment I'm alone with him in our room," Kuramochi laughed.

"He may be enough of an idiot to let you pin him to the floor with every wrestling hold known to humankind, but he'd give you a kick to remember if you were ever really stupid enough to jump his bones. You're far from stupid, _Youichi_."

"I could say the same for you, _Kazuya_. Isn't that exactly why you still haven't told him? You're afraid he'll run from you if your confession freaks him out."

"He won't run."

"You sound mighty sure of yourself, as always, which is the most irritating thing about you… oh – he's not here," Kuramochi said, as they reached Room 5, opened the door and flicked the light switch to find the space unoccupied. "But his phone is!"

The guard saw Kuramochi gleefully enter his room, presumably to pounce on the gadget left behind by his roommate. The boys didn't shut the door behind them, so it swung back halfway and stayed ajar, letting him easily hear the exchange between the second-years.

"I'm sending Wakana-chan a text message," Kuramochi chuckled.

"Haven't you graduated to texting her from your _own_ phone yet?" Miyuki sighed.

"Of course I have. The idiot's left his phone unattended so many times, I got her contact details from it ages ago."

"So why are you still using _his_ phone to communicate with _her_?"

"Because it's fun to see how she always knows it's me – it's amazing. I love sending her a message and seeing how fast she works out that it isn't her 'Eijun' talking to her. She usually figures it out in one or two messages – she's really smart," Kuramochi gushed.

"You're fascinated by this girl, aren't you?"

"She's fantastic. I don't know why Bakamura never took it into his head to date her, but I'm glad he didn't – oh! She's replied – she knows it's me!"

"I'm delighted for you," Miyuki said, voice heavy with irony.

"Let's send her a picture of us," Kuramochi suggested.

"I think she already has more than enough pictures of _all_ of us from that evening before the final with Inajitsu – which, _as you may remember_, didn't turn out too well for our side. You're not planning to jinx the Seiko game with another round of selfies and wefies for her, are you?"

"This isn't going to jinx any games. It's just a picture of Sawamura's two favourite second-year senpai, for his never-to-be girlfriend. Maybe it'll persuade her to send me _her_ picture at last."

"You don't know how absurd you sound."

"Come on – we'll do it in Sawamura's bed – you'd like that, wouldn't you? You haven't been in his bed since the night you outraged the modesty of his pillow – he changed the pillowcase right after that, did you know? Hyahahaha!"

Miyuki must have been tempted by Sawamura's bed, because the guard heard the creaking of the bed frame and the snapping sounds of a mobile phone camera as Kuramochi went: "Okay, smile – tilt your head against mine."

More creaking, grumbling (from Miyuki) and cackling (from Kuramochi), and prompts to pose this way or that, with more snapping noises. Then Kuramochi did something that made Miyuki yelp: "Oi! there's no need to molest _me_ to impress your girlfriend."

"I'm not molesting you – I'm just going to smooch you for this shot."

"I'm not smooching you."

"Don't tell me you were never curious about trying it just once, _Kazuya – _we knew from the start that you and I swung both ways…"

"Make it fast."

"Here goes…"

The security guard was too absorbed in the borderline risqué exchange (risqué for a pair of teens, at least) to register that Sawamura Eijun was that very moment trotting towards his dorm room, probably to retrieve his phone. The guard saw him with his eyes, but his mind didn't put two and two together until the pitcher threw open his room door to reveal to himself and the guard the frankly incriminating scene of Kuramochi in bed with Miyuki, the shortstop on top of the catcher, planting a kiss on his mouth and taking a picture.

"Shit – Sawamura –" Miyuki began, shoving Kuramochi off him.

The guard couldn't see Sawamura's face, but from behind, the kid's silhouette froze in the doorway before he murmured: "Oh. I just… my phone…"

"Sawamura," Kuramochi said, scrambling up from where he'd landed on the floor. "We were just – using your phone…"

"Ah – hahaha," Sawamura made nervous sounds of humourless laughter as he backed out of the doorway. "I'll come back for it later as you're… uh…"

Sawamura turned and walked quickly away, his face pale under the overhead corridor lighting. The guard heard Miyuki hiss at Kuramochi: "You stay here – _I'll_ talk to him."

The captain hurried after Sawamura and caught up with him at the end of the veranda.

"Sawamura!"

The pitcher stopped, but didn't turn around.

Miyuki stepped past him to look him in the face as he explained: "We were taking stupid pictures – that's all – Kuramochi wanted to send some to your friend, Wakana, as a joke. We're sorry we used your phone – and your bed. It seemed amusing at the time…"

Again, the guard wasn't in a position to see Sawamura's face, but the boy said a little too quickly: "Heh, no problem – it's not like Kuramochi-senpai hasn't nicked my phone a hundred times before to send nonsense to Wakana."

"Sawamura, look at me."

"Eh? I am."

"You're not. Look at me. There's nothing going on between Kuramochi and me…"

"Whoa! It's none of my business!" Sawamura laughed nervously again, holding up his hands, palms out to Miyuki. "What's going on between you two – nothing to do with me! No need to explain, Captain! Though at least I now know what it was you said you didn't want to tell me until you were ready."

"What…? No – Sawamura, this is _not_ what I said I wanted to tell you."

Sawamura, however, did not seem to be listening, as he went on: "I can see why you might've worried about my reaction, but honestly – I'm cool with it! I thought it was some big, dark secret – and I suppose it kind of is – but hey, if you're both happy about it…"

"Sawamura!" Miyuki interrupted him. "Stop – stop and listen to me. You said you could sense I had something to say to you that wasn't all the crap I was spewing. Stop and think back to that – do you really think this was it? That _this_ was what I had to tell you?"

Sawamura was silent for a few seconds before saying: "No. This – this thing with you and Kuramochi-senpai – is a total surprise. I thought – I thought… uhm… you wanted to be friends."

"What?"

The boy scratched his head a shade too roughly and said, a little too brightly: "You know, I thought you were finally tired of all your snarkiness and nasty manipulative behaviour and wanted to be actual, normal friends with someone, and you weren't sure how I'd take it."

"That's what you thought?"

"Yeah!"

"And you're happy about it – to be friends with me?" Miyuki asked quietly.

"Of course! You're horrible on the outside, but you're actually more decent than anyone knows on the inside. Why wouldn't I want to be friends? But I guess I was mistaken – this was what you wanted to say, right? About you and Kuramochi-senpai, and you wanted me to know because I'm Kuramochi-senpai's roommate, and I'm also your pitcher, and there'll be times when you'll want me to leave the room so you can be alone with him, and –"

"No!" Miyuki cut off Sawamura's near-feverish rambling.

Other players were making their way towards this wing, and the guard, Miyuki and Sawamura – as well as Kuramochi, who was slowly emerging from Room 5 – knew they had no more time to hold this conversation without half the team overhearing them.

Miyuki hurried on: "No, Sawamura – there's _nothing_ between Kuramochi and me. What you saw was a joke – meant for him to tease Wakana with. There really isn't anything to tell about him and me."

"There isn't?" Sawamura asked, as a small group of players headed their way.

"There isn't."

"So what I sensed…"

"Yes, you're right – I wanted to be friends. And I didn't know how you'd take it."

"Oh," Sawamura murmured, then fell silent, as if he wasn't sure what else to say.

The players greeted Miyuki and Sawamura as they passed. Yet another group, however, was moving towards this wing as well, and the captain quickly said: "So… is that what you want?"

"Huh?" Sawamura asked, seemingly snapping out of a daze before rambling on: "Oh – uh – yes – let's be friends after these two last matches – win or lose."

"We have to wait to be friends until the final is over?" Miyuki asked, with an oddly wry yet puzzled smile.

"You're the one who wanted to wait to tell me, right? So let's wait."

"Then what are we now?"

"We're teammates, Miyuki Kazuya you idiot," Sawamura muttered, as more people came their way. "I have to go – I told Harucchi and Furuya I'd meet them at the baths. We've already showered, but we just did some more training, so… ja ne!"

The boy fled, and Miyuki stared after him, barely noticing the teammates who filed past him and said hello. Kuramochi finally came all the way out of Room 5 and stood beside Miyuki, both of them watching the figure of Sawamura running off towards the baths.

"Dammit, Miyuki – that wasn't what _either_ of you wanted to say," Kuramochi growled, after the other players walked past them.

However, none of his usual confidence was in Miyuki's voice when he murmured, in an apparent state of shock: "This is why Chris-senpai is light years ahead of me in intelligence. Even _Tanba-san_ is a genius compared with me. Tanba-san warned Chris-senpai off Sawamura because he knew how important Sawamura was to him – _and_ he could see that Sawamura saw Chris-senpai as his shishou and not a potential romantic partner. And Chris understood immediately – he understood that if Sawamura suspected anything, it would destroy their relationship. He knew it, and he backed off. _I'm_ the idiot who kept pushing in. Shit. You were right – he'd have run if I'd told him what I really wanted to."

Kuramochi was staring at Miyuki, eyes wide, mouth agape. He stared until Miyuki drifted out of his stunned state enough to notice him staring, and then Kuramochi said in amazement: "You've _really_ got it bad, haven't you?"

"Huh?"

"When things go wrong with Sawamura, it really, seriously affects your _brain_, doesn't it? He has _that_ much effect on you?"

"Eh?"

"Are you _listening _to yourself?" Kuramochi yelled, after which they both had to keep quiet for an awkward minute because another three players were heading their way. Once their teammates greeted them and moved far away enough, Kuramochi continued, voice lowered: "I've never seen you like this – Miyuki Kazuya, Tokyo's most unpleasant genius, lost and foundering. Snap out of your shell-shocked state, Captain Moron! Sawamura can't lie to save his life – geez, even an earthworm would have grasped how pathetically he was covering up – so if you believe what he just said, you're blinder and deafer than a worm. The shock must have addled your brain. Did you even _hear_ his voice? He was doing everything he could not to cry."

"He was upset because he wanted to be friends, then he thought I was hiding some affair with _you_ from him…"

"Seriously!?"

"Yes, he – no, I mean… oh."

"Uh-huh."

Five long seconds of silence as the penny dropped, then Miyuki murmured: "He was jealous."

Kuramochi rolled his eyes. "I'll talk to him tonight when he comes back to our room – and I won't touch him, I swear – don't look at me like that."

"Damn," Miyuki muttered angrily. "This is _exactly_ what Rei-chan warned me about. He _gets_ to me. And I'm _not_ neutral around him – or particularly bright right now. Shit. She'll laugh her head off when she finds out she was right."

"Sheez, Miyuki – you play him like a fiddle on the field the same way you play every other pitcher, and you've been teasing him endlessly for months, but merely being caught by him kissing me turns you into a wreck."

"This is different from… the field – from everything else."

"Pull yourself together, man, or you'll be leaking tells like a bullet-riddled water bucket to Seiko on Saturday."

Kuramochi gave Miyuki one more hard glare, then returned to his room, and Miyuki himself went upstairs after staring into space for a minute. The security guard wondered how Kuramochi's talk with Sawamura would go later that night. However, it never took place. When Sawamura finally returned to the dorm at an unearthly hour, he didn't go back to Room 5. He went to another room instead, and a sleepy Kanemaru Shinji came downstairs to inform a still-wide-awake Kuramochi that Sawamura was sleeping elsewhere tonight.

As the guard was leaving the school when his shift ended early in the morning, the players were heading to the canteen for breakfast, and he overheard Kuramochi say to Miyuki as they walked past: "Kanemaru came by to tell me Sawamura fell asleep in Chris-senpai's old bed last night."

"I know. I heard his voice through the wall and I knocked on their door, but Kanemaru came out into the passageway and shook his head at me, saying it was better not to disturb him."

"He was avoiding you, but he went to hide out in the room next door to yours?" Kuramochi muttered. "He's really not the brightest spark in the box."

"That never stopped you from wanting to get your hands all over him."

"Same goes for you."

"Which makes us both bigger idiots than him?" Miyuki grimaced.

"Speak for yourself," Kuramochi snapped. "And sort this out before the Seiko match tomorrow, for pity's sake."

"We'll be fine against Seiko."

"Says the captain whose super-sharp brain just dissolved into mush last night over a boy who isn't talking to him right now…"

The boys' words faded as they moved further away from the security guard, who fleetingly wondered as he left for home if he should say anything to Sawamura. But no, it was best not to interfere in these kids' crushes. They'd have to learn how to navigate turbulent emotions by themselves over the years; premature interference could stunt that development.

Besides, his job was to keep them safe from the truly scary things of this world – like ill-intentioned intruders who would do them grievous bodily harm – and not to coddle them like a grandfather would. So he and his colleagues would deal with potential intruders, while the boys would just have to manage other things themselves. And really, there was nothing like a little bit of heartbreak to make a kid grow up just a shade faster.


	15. Reasons To Stay

**Spoiler Alert:** This chapter has spoilers for certain details and the outcome of the Seiko match (covered in manga chapters 328 to 352).

* * *

**Reasons To Stay**

* * *

In which Kataoka wonders about the forces of the universe

* * *

This had been an eventful week, thought Kataoka. First had come the revelation that the players knew he had resigned from his post after the summer tournament. He'd called Sawamura into the coaches' office the day after the Ouya quarter-final so he and Takashima could find out how he was feeling after pitching all nine innings, encourage him for the progress he had made, and remind him to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Just before leaving, Sawamura had cheerfully declared to him that they were two wins away from Koushien, and all the players had been fighting hard to make sure he wouldn't leave this winning team – so he'd better be mentally prepared!

A few days after that, as if hidden powers of the universe were reinforcing the message of what Sawamura had let slip, his old coach, Sakaki Eijirou, had dropped in at the training grounds during the intra-team match, triggering in Kataoka a barrage of memories from the past – and visions of the future. Sakaki-kantoku had come to inform him that he was returning to the world of high-school baseball after a seven-year absence, and it would be war between them next season – because he would be coaching another West Tokyo school. He'd added: "Don't run away, Tesshin."

So the players were battling to keep him here, and his old coach was telling him not to run – mysterious forces seemed to be nudging him to remain in his post. But a resignation letter, once submitted, could not be taken back. He could only give the team his best while he was here and demand the best from them too, then see what else these mysterious forces would deliver to them in return.

Thus far, a week later, the universe still seemed to be behind them. They had just struggled through a close battle against Seiko High in this morning's semi-final, and emerged victorious – but not without cost. And he feared that it was the players' determination to prevent his departure that was contributing to what they were suffering.

His primary worry was Furuya – the pitcher had re-injured his foot during the game, and was stubbornly refusing to accept that he might have to be rested for tomorrow's final against Yakushi. To keep the youngster from fretting himself into a silent frenzy that would wear down his health and wipe out his limited energy reserves, Kataoka had told him he would be on the roster. However, he must see Higuchi-sensei first thing tomorrow morning, listen to the doctor's assessment of his condition, and obey the instructions that would arise from that medical assessment.

The eagle-eyed Watanabe and Kudou had done a good job – if they hadn't noticed Furuya moving differently during the fifth inning, the pitcher would never have admitted he was hurt, and would have obstinately carried on.

But an equally big worry for Kataoka now was Miyuki. The coach suspected that the catcher had not come out unscathed today from the ninth-inning collision at home plate with Seiko's massive pitcher, Ogawa Tsunematsu. However, he had flatly denied needing medical attention, even though the coaches had specifically asked him to go to the clinic with Furuya after the match.

Surely Miyuki wouldn't be enough of a fool to conceal a serious injury? After having seen what Chris had had to suffer – was _still_ suffering – as a result of gritting his teeth and playing through the pain because he didn't want to let the team down, would he repeat his senpai's mistake?

Kataoka hated to admit it, but a part of him was afraid to know that Miyuki was injured. The moment the catcher admitted he was hurt, he would not hesitate to pull him from the line-up for the sake of the boy's own well-being. However, his removal from the roster would deal a severe blow to the morale of the entire team – horrible timing on the eve of the last match of the autumn campaign. In fact, it would deal a severe blow to Miyuki himself, because _every _player wanted to play in a tournament final. One as pivotal as the captain, starting catcher and fourth batter would never dream of sitting it out.

If something was broken in a player's body and he couldn't move or was obviously in agony, then no one – least of all the player himself – could complain if he was forbidden to play. But if the kid was moving and training fluidly, and breezily stating he was fine, would it actually be wrong of the coach to force a possible truth out of him and bench him – or worse, withdraw his name from a coveted final spot?

For nearly two years, Kataoka and Takashima had been quietly blaming themselves for not noticing Chris' injury early enough. The boy had disguised it extremely well, and it wasn't unusual for athletes to constantly be nursing some niggle or other – the regular, instinctive massaging of a sore joint or two was nothing uncommon in sports. Still, they were his coaches and teachers, and they hadn't spotted the signs that it was something more serious than an ache.

Kataoka never wanted to see anything like Chris' devastating case again. But Miyuki's case was different for a number of reasons. First, if there was indeed an injury at all (which wasn't certain) it was either mild enough not to hamper his movements, or too fresh to be giving him trouble. Second, there was only one more game this season – which would determine their place at Koushien in spring – instead of a long tournament ahead to worsen any damage there might be. Third, Miyuki was the pillar of this team. If he was determined to go onto that field and showed no indication that he shouldn't be there, Kataoka felt he had every right to play.

Of course, Miyuki's spectacular sayonara home run at the end of today's match was only the tip of the peak everyone had scaled to position the team for victory. Each player and supporter had done an incredible job to the best of his or her ability. But no one could deny that Miyuki, more than anyone else, had borne the weight of responsibility for the team's success.

He'd led by example in not giving up, handled every situation objectively, and guided the pitchers in difficult conditions made worse by Furuya's foot problem and obstinacy. Furuya, losing runs, hadn't wanted to leave the mound in a bad state, but it couldn't be helped. And Sawamura – unpredictable and still working towards consistency – had stumbled at first, losing two runs by not keeping his pitches low, allowing Seiko to draw level on points. But he'd stabilised quickly enough to hold them down for two innings, even pulling off a smooth pickoff and heroically diving to save a hit straight off the batter. The team stopped the haemorrhaging of points, and Kataoka had put Kawakami on the mound specifically to use his precise, low pitches against Nagata, Seiko's slugger of a fourth batter.

Then Miyuki had set aside his objectivity for a moment, allowing a rare glimpse into his personal feelings, when the match was extended after the ninth inning. As he left the dugout, he had confessed to the pitchers that he was indeed a little anxious that if their team didn't score some points now, he'd be letting them down after they'd worked so hard. Then he'd gone out and hit that home run, ending the match instantly with a win for Seidou – and his pitchers.

Which now brought Kataoka to what was going on between Sawamura and Miyuki.

They'd worked decently together this morning, with slightly less of the usual chemistry that had characterised their battery of late. Miyuki had been equally focused on every pitcher during the game, working in the manner best for each player – intimate and encouraging for Furuya, alternating between serious and playful for Sawamura, and trusting Kawakami as his steady, reliable year-mate.

He had not paid special attention to Sawamura – which was good, considering his need for neutrality – and Sawamura had not been overly demanding either. In the dugout after the game was declared extended, Sawamura had been attentive and solicitous of Miyuki's fatigue, offering him a cold drink and eagerly fetching his towel when he asked for it. It had seemed to Kataoka that the two of them were in the process of re-steadying their connection – and he'd gathered that connection had sustained quite a knock in the past couple of days.

In fact, he'd seen the attempts at recovering from the damage before today's game.

The first clue that something had been a bit off on a personal level was just before training kicked off yesterday. The coach had heard Kuramochi say to Sawamura before entering the training grounds: "…dammit, don't avoid me like this – at least come back to our room tonight…"

It stirred the coach's curiosity, but practice hours revealed little, as everyone was focused on improving their own areas of weakness that had shown up in the intra-team game the day before. All he could see was that Sawamura was not as chatty as usual, stuck close to Furuya, Kominato Haruichi, Ono and Kariba, and appeared to be operating on a strictly-business basis with Miyuki and Kuramochi.

They were unlikely to have privacy for a talk during bath time or dinner, and if Sawamura was avoiding their dorm room, then Kuramochi would probably be able to catch him only between practice and bathing, or bathing and dinner, or after dinner.

Luckily for Kataoka's own evening schedule, the shortstop tackled the pitcher – literally – to drag him to the home dugout as everyone else was leaving the field. None of the players apart from Miyuki appeared to think much of it – Kuramochi was always jumping on his roommate, after all, to discipline him for one thing or another, and everybody left them alone. Miyuki, however, reluctantly walked off the field only after a lingering look in the direction of the dugout.

The coach rose from the bench where he was going through the motions of looking through a stack of training notes, and walked up to the strip on the opposite side of the dugout from its entry point – so that when the two boys emerged, they would be less likely to come round by the side where he was.

"Aaagh! Get off me!" Sawamura was hissing when he got close enough to hear them.

"Shut up and just stay still for a second, you loony bundle of hyperactivity! Just fucking listen! I'm NOT making out with Miyuki!" Kuramochi hissed back.

"Yes you are!"

"Am NOT!"

"I saw what I saw!"

"That was my fault. Shit, I hate to admit it, but it was _my_ fault. I just wanted to provoke Wakana into sending me her own picture by sending _her_ the most idiotic shots I could, and I dragged Miyuki into it. We're NOT seeing each other. Miyuki and me, I mean – Wakana-chan's another matter – seriously – can I get to know her better?"

"H… wh… _huuuh_?!" Sawamura exclaimed, sounding angry and confused all at once. "You're asking me if you can date my childhood friend right after I caught you kissing your classmate?"

"Er, yeah… because the kiss was like a stage act – all act, no substance. Wakana-chan's another matter – I'd _really_ like to get to know her. She says she always knows it's me texting her from your phone because, unlike you, I actually ask her how she is and what she's been doing instead of yammering on and on about how fabulous or crappy I was in the last game I played. Look – whatever… just consider this fair notice that I'm now _definitely_ moving in on your girlfriend –"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"Good!"

"You…"

"And Miyuki and I are not seeing each other."

"You're…"

"_NOT _seeing each other. Never were, never will be, unless maybe you break both our hearts, _hyahahaha_!"

"You're really not?"

"Didn't you believe him when he told you?"

"Kind of but not completely." Sawamura's voice was more subdued now.

"Believe me?"

"I suppose you're more truthful than he is."

"I _am_."

"Can you get off me now?"

"I don't know – you're kind of nice to sit on."

"Kuramochi-senpai!"

"Heh – convince me that you believe me and I'll get off you."

"I believe you."

"Look at me and say it."

"I believe you!"

"Seal it with a smooch?"

"Aaaaaaarrrgh! Get OFF me!" Sawamura's howl was followed by scuffling noises and a couple of light thumps, after which Kataoka could hear the sounds of two pairs of feet shuffling about, and hands briskly dusting dirt off clothes.

"At least you now look like you've trained properly today," Kuramochi chuckled.

"_Unlike_ wrestling-mad leg-monster shortstops who slide all over the bases, pitchers don't usually have to get _this_ damned filthy in normal practice!" Sawamura snapped.

"_Especially_ when they can't bat or run for first base to save their lives and need a pinch-hitter."

"Hey! I _don't_ need a pinch-hitter!"

"One of these days, Kantoku's gonna decide to put one in for you because our rival teams are starting to figure out that all you can do is bunt…"

They sounded back to their normal bickering as they left the dugout from the usual exit point, rounding the structure on the opposite side from where he was, as he had predicted. They left the field without looking back, and thus, without noticing him.

Kataoka tried not to let mental images of Kuramochi kissing Miyuki for the camera invade his mind as he waited for the two kids to disappear from view before heading for the staff canteen.

After dinner, he sent for Miyuki, Kuramochi and Maezono – not to discuss the matter of the captain kissing one of his deputies (news that would surely have floored Zono), but to talk about the starting line-up for the Seiko game. In fact, he made it a point not to hint at personal issues, because he wanted to see what Miyuki was going to do.

"I've decided that Furuya will be the starting pitcher for tomorrow's game, but Sawamura and Kawakami will also have a part to play. Please let the pitchers know." He'd ended the short meeting on that note, and waited. Twenty minutes later, one of the security guards whom he had got to know well over the years, and from whom he'd asked a favour just before dinnertime, came to his office as agreed, to give him the following details:

Sawamura had been talking to Furuya all evening (an unusual scene), and after dinner, the two rivals had gone together to the indoor training facility, where they'd exchanged pitching tips (an even stranger scene). While they were there, Miyuki, Kuramochi, Maezono, Shirasu and the younger Kominato had shown up. Miyuki had bluntly announced to the two pitchers that Furuya would be starting tomorrow's game against Seiko, and they should both get an early night.

As the group of five walked away, Sawamura had yelled that he was now too angry to sleep. Maezono and Kominato had peeled off from the group to do some swinging practice, and Kuramochi had snapped at Miyuki: "Did you _have_ to say that to them when they were _both_ there?"

"They were getting along too well for my liking, so announcing it that way worked fine for me," Miyuki had said with a grin.

"You're showing your nasty side again, you know," Kuramochi had muttered. Even the normally unexpressive Shirasu had frowned.

"I know," Miyuki had replied lightly.

"You need to _talk_ to Sawamura – _really_ talk. He's still avoiding you, isn't he, even after I had a word with him? He's been hanging out with Furuya all evening…"

"Oh, we'll talk."

"When? The semi-final's tomorrow!"

"I'd say… round about… _now_."

Right on cue, Sawamura had come storming after them, and confronted Miyuki in the passageway about how nasty he'd been to announce something like that in such a manner. Miyuki had suggested that he and Sawamura go to his room to talk, but Sawamura had snapped: "I'm not going to your room – you do _weird_ things with people in rooms!"

The security guard had left the area then – as Kataoka had requested that he should inform him the moment Sawamura and Miyuki might have a chance to talk alone.

"I can tell you where they're likely to go when they want to thrash something out in private," the guard told him with a smile. "I don't know how it was in your time here as a student, but for as long as I've worked here, the boys have often gone to the back of the dorm when they can't get a room to themselves – or in this case, when one of the two is refusing to be in a room with the other."

They passed Kuramochi and Shirasu walking together through the dormitory compound, and nodded to them when they greeted the adults. That meant Sawamura and Miyuki were alone by now – and the security guard was motioning Kataoka towards one end of the middle dorm wing.

It really wasn't Kataoka's style to creep around, ducking behind vending machines and garbage receptacles – he left that sort of thing to Ochiai – but he was starting to worry that the guard was expecting him to do just that.

However, the other man only led him to a storage room that held a mix of cleaning equipment and smaller items of dorm furniture like chairs awaiting repair or replacement.

"I saw the fallout from Miyuki and Kuramochi horsing around last night. But they didn't mean anything by it, and it wasn't my place to interfere. It would be good if Miyuki could work things out himself with Sawamura, you know," the man said quietly. "With the semis and final coming up and all."

The security guard unlocked the storage room door, but didn't switch on the overhead light. He turned on his flashlight instead and used it to illuminate his path as he walked up to the small window at the far end of the room, under which a desk with a broken leg stood, tilting to one side. The guard very carefully and quietly opened the window a crack, then beckoned Kataoka over. He gave the coach a smile and a nod, handed him his flashlight so he would be able to make his way back out later, and left the room.

Kataoka stood by the window in the darkness and listened, and the two boys' voices floated up to him from just a couple of metres below and to the right.

"…because you _always_ come after me with your demands," Miyuki was saying softly. "You're always running after me, asking me to catch for you, or chiding me about something or other you feel I've done wrong. I knew you'd come looking for me this time too, especially if I annoyed you enough to get your hackles up."

"Bloody Miyuki Kazuya," Sawamura muttered, sounding as if he was trying to sound angry, and failing.

"Now that you finally believe me about there being nothing between me and Kuramochi, I need to be honest with you about something else."

"What now?" Sawamura asked suspiciously.

"What I said I wanted to tell you – it wasn't about wanting to be friends."

"Eh?"

"And before you jump to any conclusions – no, it's not about me having some seedy affair with Kuramochi or anyone else either."

"So…"

"So as we agreed before, we'll talk after the autumn tournament, okay?"

"Hmm… okay… er… Miyuki Ka… what are you doing?"

Kataoka could hear the sounds of movement, the light friction of pieces of soft clothing against each other, and a light gasp.

"What am I doing?" Miyuki's voice came at last, sounding slightly muffled, as if his face was half-buried in something. "I'm holding you – making contact – just making contact so you'll believe me."

"Eh?"

"You complain that I say a lot of stuff I don't mean, and I suppose I do, but you also said you could sense if I meant what I was saying on those occasions when I made physical contact, so I'm just… showing you that I mean what I say." There was a gentle smile somewhere in that partially muffled voice.

"Oh."

"Believe me?" Miyuki asked.

"Uh… so… if you don't want to talk to me about being friends… we're not friends?"

"Of course we are. But I'll warn you that on the field, I'm your catcher and your captain, and I won't treat you differently from anyone else. But with regard to what we need to talk about, there's something other than that – and we'll get to it after the final, okay?"

"Okay," came Sawamura's murmur, sounding a bit muffled itself, as if the boy was now nuzzling something – maybe the other boy's shoulder, maybe his hair.

"Trust me?"

"Mmm."

Kataoka carefully and noiselessly closed and locked the window of the storage room, clicked on the flashlight, and walked back out into the passageway, where the security man was waiting for him.

"Did it go well?" the man asked him as he locked the door.

"As well as it should, I suppose."

"Not going to harm tomorrow's game?"

"It had better not."

That had all happened last night, and as it turned out, it might have been the saving of the Seiko match this morning. Because it had left Miyuki mentally and emotionally free to focus on what needed to be done to squeeze out that win right at the end.

But while the unity within the team was strengthening, the cost of the match had been the recurrence of Furuya's foot injury, and very possibly a fresh injury somewhere in Miyuki Kazuya's body, one he was concealing with every ounce of his considerable willpower, along with all the words he wasn't ready to say yet to Sawamura Eijun.


	16. Much To Worry About

**Much To Worry About**

* * *

In which Oota frets a good deal

* * *

Oota thought he would burst a vein in his head. What he was hearing was just a _tad_ too much to process calmly. After all the trouble Miyauchi had caused months ago early in the summer by molesting Kawakami, then declaring his feelings for him, the catcher had gone through a lot to travel that painstaking road back to a normal, _not_-awkward relationship with the pitcher.

But what was Oota hearing now? This very moment? Was he really listening to Tanba asking Miyauchi about what had gone on in the players' canteen earlier, and hearing Miyauchi answer frankly that he'd just tried to grab Kawakami's balls again? On the eve of the autumn tournament final! Which Kawakami was the starting pitcher for!

That vein in his head was really pulsating now.

The coaches and retired third-year players, as well as a clutch of second- and first-years, had left the indoor training facility tonight after watching Sawamura go through his usual uphill slog in learning _anything_, as he tried to pick up the two-seam fastball under Miyuki's and Kataoka's guidance.

Oota had spent some time talking to former base coaches Kadota and Kusunoki outside the indoor facility after Sawamura was done pitching. He had then walked through the dormitory compound with them on his way back to the coaches' office – which was upstairs, beside the row of dorm rooms currently occupied by the retired third-years. When they parted at the two students' rooms, Oota had not gone straight into the office, but strolled along the open-sided walkway, staring out into the cool autumn night and trying not to worry about the final tomorrow. How would it go? Would Seidou be disappointed once more at the last hurdle before Koushien? Was Kataoka-kantoku truly leaving the school? How would Kawakami fare starting in such a big game?

He sighed and fretted for a bit before coming to a stop at the very end of the walkway, where it was dark as no rooms were in use there, and someone had switched off the overhead lights along these few metres of the passageway. As he stood there, he became aware of two figures on the ground below, in the area of the dorm compound that lay between the main entrance and the offices used by the security, kitchen and dorm-supervisory staff.

The two were Miyauchi and Tanba, having a conversation away from the areas where foot traffic would be heaviest at this time of evening. Tanba was asking Miyauchi why he hadn't been with the rest of them in the indoor facility watching Sawamura train, and Miyauchi was saying that he hadn't felt like being there. Oota was just about to turn away to enter the office when he heard Tanba ask, laughingly: "And what _on earth_ was that about in the players' lounge earlier? When you stuck your arm out at Kawakami and he stopped you with that crossarm block?"

Miyauchi's casual answer: "Oh, he was just preventing me from grabbing his balls again. He did it pretty well too, huh?"

"Uh… 'again'?"

Which was about when the vein in Oota's head started throbbing.

"Oh, of course… you weren't in the dugout during that three-header in early summer, were you?" Miyauchi remarked. "You and the rest of the team playing Shuuhoku later were warming up in the other field, right? I'm surprised no one mentioned it to you."

"Wait, wait…" Tanba muttered disbelievingly. "Are you telling me that you molested Kawakami during the three-header? During the game?"

"Really – no one told you? Ah – but that was the same day you sustained that jaw injury. Obviously, people would have been more concerned about how _you_ were feeling when talking to you."

"Maybe. Or maybe, no one thought it was worth mentioning out of all the weird things you've been known to do in your three years here."

"Well, now you know."

"Shit, Miyauchi. Of all the things…"

"Yeah. You don't have to say it. I've already had an earful from Oota-buchou, Kantoku and Kawakami himself."

"So the reason things were awkward between the two of you in summer wasn't only because you told him you liked him, but also because you'd outraged his modesty before that?" Tanba sounded torn between chuckling at the problem and giving Miyauchi a telling-off.

"Yeah, well, mostly because I confessed. Not so much because I groped him."

"But now you're restarting the whole mess by trying to grope him again?"

"He fended me off pretty well, don't you think? He's all grown up," Miyauchi said, sounding ridiculously proud of Kawakami.

"Miyauchi…" the former ace was chuckling now, his body language expressing both amusement and disapproval. "You don't want Kawakami to be mad with you all over again…"

"He was never mad with me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Quite sure."

They, and Oota, were suddenly distracted by Sawamura's voice, sounding loud and clear from the end of the compound nearer the laundry room. That part of the ground-floor veranda was blocked from Oota's view, but when the pitcher and his companions approached the row where Sawamura's room was, they came into his line of sight.

"Chris-senpai, I was good in there, wasn't I?" the southpaw asked eagerly, walking between Chris and Miyuki.

Chris' voice was too soft for Oota to hear what he said, but Sawamura's response told Oota that Chris must have said he wasn't too good at the start.

"Was I that bad at the beginning?" Sawamura demanded with a pout.

"Hey, have you forgotten already?" Miyuki reminded him. "Chris-senpai took cover behind the net and declined to stand in the batter's position as he wasn't keen on getting hit by your pitches!"

"I remember," Sawamura grumbled, looking petulant.

"You did very well, Sawamura," Oota managed to hear Chris say kindly, before most of the middle section was lost to his ears, until the third-year finished with: "It takes patience to train you, but it's always worth the while, and the wait."

Sawamura lit up like the candles on a birthday cake, and looked as if he was about to burst into tears of happiness, a sight that made Chris smile.

"Oi, oi, you look like you're about to explode with joy!" Miyuki chided. "Don't get _this_ overexcited on the eve of the final!"

Directly below Oota, Miyauchi and Tanba had fallen silent as the trio appeared along the veranda across the courtyard from them, but Miyauchi was now asking Tanba softly: "Doesn't it bother you at all? Seeing how happy Chris always is to be near Sawamura?"

Tanba folded his arms and rocked back a bit on his heels, while continuing to gaze at the trio still too far away from them to hear their conversation. "No," he said. "If not for Sawamura, Chris wouldn't even be giving me a chance to get close to him in a different way from how we'd been before this, when we were just friends."

"Hmm?"

"Sawamura was the first guy Chris ever felt attracted to. It was only because he came into Chris' life at all that Chris is even smiling and talking to the rest of us normally now. And it's only because Sawamura moved him unexpectedly that Chris decided to be more open-minded about being with someone like me. If not for that, he'd probably be dating… I don't know… Takako-chan?"

"Jun'll kill you if he hears you."

"If Takako-chan had had a choice between Chris and Jun to begin with, who do you think she'd have chosen?" Tanba asked, clearly intending it to be rhetorical.

But Miyauchi remarked knowingly: "Ah… I don't know about that… Jun has his charms for girls, I think. Takako could have gone for Tetsu instead, but she didn't. Jun's sort – scruffy, loud, with a bad-boy image but easy to read like an open book, and with a good heart – the nicest girls always fall for that sort."

"I suppose you could be right. No girls ever looked at me."

"Not that you were ever all that attracted to them."

"I was never all that attracted to anybody, guy or girl, until… well, Chris."

"What about that Manaka friend of yours from Ichidaisan? You seem pretty close."

"Kacchan's always been my childhood friend, and that's all…"

They were interrupted then by another loud voice – but this time, it wasn't Sawamura. To Oota's surprise, and no doubt Miyauchi's too, it was Kawakami.

"Miyauchi-senpai! Where did you go after we all left the canteen? I haven't thrashed things out with you yet!" Kawakami snapped, walking briskly across the dorm compound. Even from upstairs, Oota could see that the pitcher's brow was furrowed, his eyes flashing – this was probably the point at which Sawamura was whispering something or other to Chris about "Nori-senpai looking like a nocturnal squirrel in a temper".

"Uh, I'd say Kawakami's mad with you _now_, Miyauchi," Tanba said a little nervously, excusing himself from the awkward situation by bidding them both good night and going over to Chris, who was just stepping away from Miyuki and Sawamura.

Kawakami waited for Tanba to get far away enough from them before rounding on Miyauchi and asking fiercely: "Why did you try to grope me _again_ in public?"

"You'd rather I did it in private?" Miyauchi asked.

Oota honestly couldn't tell if it was tongue-in-cheek or not, so deadpan was his delivery.

"Miya-senpai!" Kawakami hissed.

"But honestly, it's not when I grab your balls that I mean anything by it. It's just the sort of thing I do to check how sure you are of yourself. Don't take it to heart."

"No, you said before that you couldn't imagine doing it to anyone else. That makes it kind of personal, doesn't it? So I can't help but take it to heart!"

"Hmm… yes, but you should take it personally in a _different_ kind of way from when I do other things, like tell you how I really feel about you."

It wasn't possible to tell in the dim lighting of the area they were standing in, but Oota could very easily believe that Kawakami had to be blushing furiously as he said: "W-well, I already know how you feel about me. And yes, of course I take it personally, but it's not in a bad way."

"I know."

"S-so you should already know me darn well enough to know how I'm feeling, and there's no need for you to check by molesting me. Don't do it again, understand?"

"Not even in private?"

"Miya-senpai!"

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for groping you during that game, and I'm sorry for trying to do it again tonight in the canteen."

"Apology accepted."

"Thank you for not staying upset with me."

"I've never been seriously upset with you."

"No? You sounded upset enough when you stomped over to me a minute ago."

"That was because I thought you were hiding from me after we left the canteen. I wanted to talk to you. Well, I wanted to scold you first for trying to grab my balls again, and _then_ I wanted to talk to you."

"About what? Are you nervous about tomorrow? You said you weren't…"

"I'm not nervous. I'm fine. I just wanted to ask you now, in case things go wrong tomorrow and I'm too distraught to talk after the game. I wanted to ask you if… after the winter training camp and just before we go home for the New Year – if you'd like to, maybe… go for a movie, and have coffee, or something…"

Oota's jaw almost hit the balustrade, and Miyauchi himself was silent and still for a good half-minute before the catcher finally asked: "Kawakami Norifumi, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Yes, but we'll have to go dutch. The pocket money always dries up at that time of year – I think my parents are actually afraid that I won't go home for the New Year if they send me too much cash…"

"It's a date."

"Right," Kawakami said awkwardly. "I'm going back to my room now. I want to have an early night so I can wake up earlier to run a bit before tomorrow's game."

"Walk you back upstairs?"

"No groping, you hear?"

"No groping."

Miyauchi's current room wasn't far from the coaches' office, and neither was Kawakami's, for that matter. Oota didn't want to be standing here when they got upstairs. He was a little afraid that he would end up grabbing Miyauchi by the collar and shaking him violently the way he'd often seen Sawamura doing to Miyuki earlier in the year. So he entered the coaches' office and stood off to the side in a daze, giving vague replies whenever Kataoka, Takashima and Ochiai asked him a question. Thankfully, there wasn't much for them to ask him, as all the logistics were sorted for tomorrow, and he knew the details like the back of his hand, so he could reply on autopilot.

He was worried about Kawakami – worried that the boy might be caving in to initiating a closer relationship with Miyauchi out of guilt for not returning his feelings before, or perhaps because no better alternative had presented itself. But then, it had been Kawakami who had proposed the date, not Miyauchi. Kawakami could quite easily have asked the girls he knew instead, if he'd seriously been looking for a date with _anyone_, as opposed to a date with Miyauchi. After all, he and Shirasu, whom he spent the most time with, were a pair of boys whom girls never felt too intimidated to talk to, as they were gentle, quiet and warm in nature. Oota knew they were on good terms with all their female classmates. So if Kawakami hadn't asked one of these girls instead, perhaps… perhaps… he really was starting to feel something for Miyauchi?

When the other coaches called it a night, Oota said he would do the locking-up. After they had left, he sat alone in the office for a while before rising with a sigh, stepping out of the room, reaching back in to switch the lights off, then securing the door after him. He paused outside Miyauchi's room on his way towards the nearest staircase, then found himself giving those stairs a miss and walking further on to the other wing, where he paused outside Kawakami's door. No, he shouldn't talk to the boy tonight – he didn't want to upset him on the eve of the final. And if they won tomorrow, then he didn't much mind who the players chose to date, provided they didn't break school rules by canoodling on school grounds, or while wearing the uniform – and provided that the puppy love didn't go wrong enough to leave the parties involved heartbroken and too distracted to study or play baseball properly.

Oota went downstairs and walked up and down a bit more, worrying all over again, not only about Kawakami and Miyauchi, but also about the final, Kataoka-kantoku, whether life would be horrible for him under Ochiai-san in future, whether Sawamura could be relied on to relieve Kawakami tomorrow (gosh, the southpaw's record was _terrible_ against Yakushi!), what the doctor would say about Furuya's foot tomorrow morning, and whether Furuya would even listen to the doctor…

He'd strolled aimlessly past the laundry room and the bathing house when he heard voices from the area near the vending machines outside the canteen. Looking round the corner of the building, he saw Sawamura and Miyuki seated on one of the benches close to the vending machines, facing the indoor facility. Goodness. Shouldn't they be in bed by now like almost everyone else was? Kataoka-kantoku had specifically told them not to stay up late tonight…

"Can't you catch for me a bit more?" Sawamura was cajoling Miyuki.

"You already had the ten extra pitches Kantoku allowed you after you finally nailed the pitch!" Miyuki replied, before taking a sip of the canned drink he was holding, then passing the drink over to Sawamura.

"I could do a hundred more! It felt fantastic once I got it!" Sawamura exclaimed.

Miyuki laughed. "Hey, even if you don't need rest, I do."

"Then I'll wake you up early tomorrow to catch for me!" The pitcher took a couple of sips of the drink, and handed it back to Miyuki.

"What kind of batteries do you run on?" Miyuki asked in disbelief, taking another mouthful of the drink and checking that enough was left for Sawamura before indicating that the pitcher should finish up the rest of it.

Watched by Miyuki, Sawamura downed the remainder of the drink, tipping his head back to get the last drops of it, then excitedly leaped to the next thing on his mind: "Oh yeah – say – what was it like watching me pitch from the side tonight while Ono-senpai caught for me? Was it different? Was it interesting?"

"I couldn't take my eyes off you," Miyuki said seriously.

"That's – that's…" Sawamura spluttered after a moment of stunned silence. "You can't just _say _something like that!"

"Oh? Why not?" came the disingenuous question.

"And you don't just ask why you can't ask it either!" Sawamura snapped. "If you need to be told that sort of thing, there's no hope for you!"

"Really?" Miyuki asked teasingly.

"And by the way, don't you still have something you need to tell me? Does it _still_ have to wait till after this whole tournament is over? It'll be over by tomorrow!"

"_Do_ I have something to tell you?" was Miyuki's playful question.

"Come on, you can tell me!"

"Okay, I'll tell you… that you're really a stubborn, hyperactive, noisy fellow."

"Hey!"

"_But_ that stubbornness is exactly what made you so determined to learn how to properly use the two-seam fastball tonight, just because you saw Sanada Shunpei using it to good effect this afternoon – you're so easily influenced."

"So what if I am?"

"So we'll have to make sure no one who doesn't mean well influences you to do anything that wouldn't be good for you, or us."

"'Us'?"

"The whole team."

"Oh."

A low chuckle from Miyuki, and a playful tap of his finger on Sawamura's nose. "And us too, as in you and me, you idiot. Come on, _baka_, it's time for bed."

"Are you sure you're not hiding something _else_ from me?"

Miyuki seemed startled for a moment, but the moment passed swiftly, and the catcher asked with a chuckle: "What else would I be hiding from you?"

"You've been really cautious about making contact with me tonight – not at all like last night. As if you're afraid I'll sense you're keeping more secrets from me."

"_Baka_," Miyuki said softly. "I just want us both to be totally focused on the game tomorrow."

"Is that all it is? Promise?"

"Ohhh…" Miyuki teased, leaning over towards the pitcher a little. "Does little Sawamura not feel able to go to sleep without a goodnight kiss?"

"Hey! Who said anything about kissing!?" Sawamura yelled, leaning away from Miyuki.

"Shh… you'll wake everyone, _Uza_mura," Miyuki smiled. "Should I also ask Kuramochi to tuck you in and sing you a lullaby?"

"Miyuki Kazuya! You're so annoying!" Sawamura growled, getting to his feet and walking away from the bench to toss the drink can into the nearest recycling bin.

Miyuki walked along behind him, so close behind that when Sawamura turned away from the bin, he found himself nearly nose to nose with the catcher. Miyuki put both his hands on Sawamura's upper arms and, thus grasping the younger boy, leaned in an inch or two to plant a peck on his forehead.

"There – a kiss for luck against Yakushi in tomorrow's game, and a goodnight kiss, all bundled into one. Will you go to bed now?"

"Okay," Sawamura murmured, sounding curiously embarrassed and contented at the same time. "You're really not hiding something else from me?"

"Nothing earth-shattering, _baka_. Focus on tomorrow's game. _That_ will be earth-shattering if we don't win it."

"We'll win. We have to."

"I'm sure Yakushi's saying the very same thing right now, so we're just going to have to outplay them."

"You know how to do that, don't you? You and Kantoku?"

"We'll do it. We'll win it, even if it kills me."

Miyuki walked Sawamura back to his room – Oota had to nip behind the door of the laundry room so that they wouldn't see him. When the pitcher had shut the door of his room, Oota saw that Miyuki lingered outside for a few moments, staring at the closed door, before climbing the stairs to his own room.

Why were all these relationships and romances coming to light for Oota on the eve of the autumn final? Why were these boys giving him so much to worry about? Things were already tense enough without all these other things – plans for dates, and goodnight kisses, and questions about secrets being kept from others… gah! Whatever was going on, it had better not screw up their concentration for tomorrow's match! They'd better win it first, and _then_ start thinking about dates and kisses… no, no, no – what was he saying? As a teacher, he simply mustn't encourage smooching in school. Absolutely not. It was totally against the rules.

But then again, if they won, they'd qualify for Spring Koushien, and who'd really care by then who was smooching whom?


	17. Catching Sawamura

**Spoiler alert: **This chapter contains some details and information about the outcome of the autumn-tournament final between Seidou and Yakushi.

* * *

**Catching Sawamura**

* * *

In which Ochiai gets infected

* * *

The contagion was remarkably… well, contagious. Ochiai fully grasped this fact only when it was too late. It struck him when he found himself smiling – with genuine amusement at that – in the indoor facility the night before the final game of the autumn tournament, at Sawamura's hilarious reaction to Kataoka's unexpected appearance at his impromptu training session.

The coaches had held a post-dinner meeting in which Kataoka had revealed that despite his reassuring words to Furuya earlier, he was not including the ace in his tactical plans for tomorrow. He would rely primarily on Kawakami, and Sawamura to relieve him. Kawakami's precision and reliability needed no special preparation, but Sawamura's variability of form, compounded by his miserable track record against Yakushi, made him a risky proposition. With that in mind, Kataoka had led him, Takashima and Oota to where Sawamura was most likely to be at this time – the indoor training area.

There, they had indeed found the pitcher poised to learn the two-seam fastball under Miyuki's tutelage. Ono was catching, and nearly all the retired third-years made up the audience. When Kataoka entered, Sawamura's cheerful facial expression had altered instantly to one bearing a comical degree of shock and stress, accompanied by the knee-jerk, stuttering yell of "B-Big Boss!".

That was when it happened. Along with Takashima stifling her chuckles beside him, Ochiai actually found himself smiling. Smiling at Sawamura. Not in a cynical way at how hopeless the boy was, but in an almost… curse it all, but there was no other word for it… an almost _fond_ way, because the boy was _cute_ when he was flustered.

Hell and damnation. He'd been infected by Sawamura Eijun.

As if this realisation alone wasn't enough to drive him slightly round the bend, that session in the indoor facility brought home more strongly than ever how charismatic Kataoka was, and how much heart he put into developing these players in ways that brought out the best in them. Ochiai suddenly knew it would be impossible for him to fill Kataoka's shoes. He was every bit as capable a coach as that man, better in many ways, but he didn't have Kataoka's passion, which mirrored and multiplied the players' passion, and brought out the will and courage that had carried the team through situations on the field Ochiai would have given up on.

It wasn't fair to expect him to step into the shoes of such a man when he himself was a completely different kind of coach – good for any team that desired his technical and physical-training expertise, but not for Seidou, which ran on _heart_.

With his dismay at discovering he'd caught the disease that made people gravitate towards Sawamura, and his epiphany that Kataoka was the perfect coach for Seidou, the secretiveness in Ochiai snapped just a little. He found himself doing yet another unspeakable thing that evening: pouring bits of his heart out to Takashima there and then by lamenting to her that Kataoka didn't play fair – how could he bow his head to him and ask him to take care of the team, and then show him precisely how amazing a coach he was to these kids?

Takashima hadn't said anything, and if he'd been in her shoes, he wouldn't have known what to say either. He couldn't understand this woman – her values were nothing like his – but he was glad that in this moment of weakness, she hadn't gloated, or laughed at him; she'd simply listened with – was it compassion mingled with the surprise there?

So he'd got what he needed to get off his chest, as the inevitable happened: Sawamura, after demonstrating all that was useless about his learning abilities, had a sudden leap of intuition hatched in response to Miyuki's and Kataoka's joint demand that he give them his very best and neatest fastball for his last pitch. He pulled off a wonderful delivery that made the ball appear to speed up midway towards the catcher's glove – Miyuki had taken Ono's place by then.

Kataoka had allowed Sawamura ten more pitches after that, and by the end of the session, even Oota seemed less panicky about Sawamura facing Yakushi.

The adults returned to the coaches' office, and when their discussions about their preparations for the next day were over, Ochiai knew what he would say to the principal and vice-principal at the end of the final game. If Seidou won, he would tell them it was Kataoka who'd made the victory possible. Even if they lost, he'd tell them it was Kataoka, not him, who'd got them to the final at all, because he had refused either to sacrifice the whole team for one person, or to sacrifice individuals who hadn't seemed of use to the team. If Ochiai had been in charge, kids like Sawamura, Watanabe, Asou, Kudou and others would have been forced to leave long ago. Yet, these very players had been pivotal in bringing the team so far this autumn. So they'd better make Kataoka take back his resignation letter.

He'd gone to bed that night preoccupied with thoughts of the bothersome process of starting a new job search. But popping up annoyingly in a corner of his mind was also Sawamura and his effect on people. There was even an odd curiosity about whether any developments had taken place between the southpaw and Miyuki after that private moment he'd witnessed in the indoor facility a few weeks ago, when Miyuki had secretly touched Sawamura's face while the pitcher was asleep.

In the morning, Ochiai returned to the school to find that Kataoka and Takashima had taken Furuya to see Dr Higuchi. The verdict, when they returned, was that Furuya could play one inning at most – possibly less or not at all if he felt any pain in his foot. So that settled it for the pitching relay – Kawakami for most of the game, then Sawamura, and if it was appropriate, Furuya right at the end.

When Takashima said she would update the captain about Furuya, Ochiai trailed behind for want of something better to do than rack his brain about teams that might be in need of a coach. They'd been informed that Miyuki was in the indoor facility with Sawamura and Kuramochi, so Takashima went in, while Ochiai hung about outside. He listened as she informed Miyuki about Furuya's condition, and heard the expected "captainspeak" sort of reply about how it was a relief to know Furuya could be on the bench at all, and that he was crucial to the team. Takashima's comment that Miyuki should tell that to Furuya himself, and Miyuki's answer that saying it to the pitcher would only make him more stubbornly determined to pitch even if he couldn't, were not particularly interesting to Ochiai. But what did make him prick up his ears was hearing Sawamura pipe up in an intense and insistent way, telling Miyuki that some things had to be _said_ to be understood.

Ochiai stood aside as they came out of the building, and watched as Sawamura, walking beside Miyuki, turned expectantly to the captain and asked playfully: "And don't you have something to say to _me _too?"

Miyuki, in return, gave Sawamura a teasing smile and an astonishingly flirtatious, sing-song answer of "_U-za-i_…". Yes, the captain was saying "N-o-i-s-y" to the pitcher, and all that was missing was a blown kiss at the end of the word – but it might as well have been there, considering the body language and tone.

So. Their relationship had progressed to such a point. Interesting. And Kuramochi was watching Miyuki like a hawk as they walked away from the indoor facility. Interesting too. Ochiai had figured out a while back that the shortstop had had a thing for Sawamura, and a bit of a history with Miyuki as well – nothing major, but enough to make this a curious triangle. (At some point, when he'd also heard whispers that Kuramochi was the sort of boy who batted for both teams since he appeared to have the hots for pretty girls as well, he'd made a last-ditch attempt to straighten him out by dropping a big hint that switch-hitting was not necessarily a good thing and he should just pick one side and always bat left; the hint apparently hadn't gone down well with the rebellious kid.)

But during the final game that afternoon, Ochiai realised the reason for Kuramochi's intent gaze on Miyuki that morning, when it was quietly revealed within the Seidou team that Miyuki had been injured in yesterday's match with Seiko. It seemed Kuramochi had found out late last night, and had kept the secret for his captain.

Takashima was furious with Miyuki for hiding his injury. Ochiai wasn't sure exactly what she had said to Miyuki in the locker room after the physio examined him, nor was he entirely sure what the catcher had said in reply to her, but she was still angry when she returned to the stands. And it was Ochiai's turn to hear her out as she expressed her frustration with Miyuki's obstinacy and deception. Then, just as she had done him the favour last night of hearing him out without mocking him and giving him the best possible response of saying nothing at all, he now gave her the best possible response at this time by pointing out to her the reassuring fact that the team's morale actually appeared to be _rising_ even though the players now knew that Miyuki was injured.

Kawakami had been unfortunate enough to have that pitch by Todoroki Raichi numb his pitching hand when he was at bat, but Sawamura was rising to the occasion by performing very well, keeping both Yakushi as well as his own Yakushi-shaped demons at bay.

Ochiai honestly felt that if he was in charge, he wouldn't switch the southpaw out for the last inning. But Kataoka, as usual, saw things differently. By now, he could more or less work out what the head coach was thinking by putting Furuya on. He guessed that Kataoka wanted first to strike dismay into Yakushi's hearts by letting them assume he was sending the ace to the mound now that they were down, to crush them completely. Second, he knew Kataoka wanted to give Furuya a chance to participate in this game – every player wanted to play in a final, and it was only fair for the ace to have that opportunity. Third, he must be doing it for Sawamura's sake too, because the kid had reached the place he was standing in now in his own way, one stumbling step at a time, learning everything from scratch, interspersing that laborious progress with leaps of instinct that propelled him forward in great bounds, and Kataoka didn't want him to get ahead of himself or assume too great a burden yet.

And Seidou did it. They won. Furuya closed the game with no mercy for either Yakushi or Miyuki, and it was done. Ochiai said what he needed to say to the principal, and watched as the retired third-years feted Kataoka for the victory. Kataoka actually bowed to them – good grief – shedding tears as he did so, apologising for not having been able to earn that ticket to Koushien while the third-years were still on the team. _What an un-coach-like thing to do,_ Ochiai thought, as the former team members tossed Kataoka up in the air in celebration. Ah well, but being what he thought of as un-coach-like had got the team here, so what did Ochiai know?

He also watched from afar as Takashima rushed Miyuki to the nearest clinic – they would leave the more detailed tests and scans for tomorrow – with Maezono and Kuramochi practically holding Miyuki upright. Sawamura wasn't with them; he was instead cheerfully chatting to Furuya and Kominato, then joining the third-years as they celebrated their schoool's triumph. How odd. Considering how close he had seen Miyuki and Sawamura to be, why wasn't the pitcher in that taxi with…

Of course. The idiot child simply didn't realise Miyuki's injury was potentially serious. Ochiai wouldn't put it past the moron to think the captain was just suffering a minor pull that was only hampering his performance for today, with the clinic visit being a mere precaution. And he wouldn't put it past Miyuki to have hidden the worst of his pain from Sawamura so as not to worry the boy. He could show it to his vice-captains and Takashima now that the game was over, but not Sawamura.

Which meant that Sawamura was going to be less than pleased – and in the loudest possible manner too – when he found out later.

Unseemly behaviour on the team was no longer Ochiai's business now that he had talked himself out of this job by praising Kataoka to the skies, but since he'd found himself smiling at Sawamura's antics last night, he decided that whether it was his business or not, he wanted to know. Because it was in his nature to be a busybody. And because Sawamura had made him smile. And just because.

The team got back to the school first. The entire body of players and managers went wild celebrating in the canteen as well as upstairs, outside Kataoka's office, where the coach had locked himself in. Kataoka had probably retreated there out of embarrassment for having shed tears earlier, but possibly, Ochiai thought, also to avoid being tossed up into the air any more (a rather nauseating experience, surely?).

Celebrations were going on throughout the dorm, and with the food laid out in the canteen and the loud whoops of laugher and splashing about in the baths, Ochiai guessed that the dormitory compound would be the focal point of the festivities for the rest of the evening, right through dinner and afterwards. The indoor facility, then, might be where Miyuki and Sawamura would best be able to talk with least interruption, since no one was likely to be training tonight? Or the back of the dorm?

So Ochiai strode through the gate in the chain-link fence behind the dorm and asked the team-bus driver: "Please will you lend me your step ladder before you leave for the day?"

"More scheming, Ochiai-san?" the driver asked with some concern, as he stood on that very ladder to wipe the windshield.

"Ah, yes, but it's not anything you would think of as evil plans for world domination," Ochiai sighed, scratching his head and looking at the man with as much honesty as he could muster.

"Hmm. All right. But please return it to me in good condition when I'm back here on Tuesday, or you'll have to buy me a new one to replace it."

"I'll guard it with my life," Ochiai assured him dryly.

"I'll leave it wrapped in a tarpaulin sheet under the bus when I'm done cleaning. You can pick it up when you need it."

"Thank you."

Ochiai then went to the indoor facility which, as he'd predicted, was still empty, and stood on a piece of gym equipment to undo the latch of the window at the far end. He'd need that window later if he was right about where Miyuki and Sawamura were likely to thrash it out, as there were no stacks of crates for him to hide behind today – all the crates of balls apart from one had been locked away as there would almost certainly be no training done this evening.

And if the two kids met at the back of the dorm instead, he'd also be in a position to nip closer to where they were.

He wasn't sure when Miyuki, Takashima and the vice-captains would be back, but he hung around the outside corner of the canteen, strolling in occasionally to pick up a bite of cake or refill his cup with hot tea. At the right moment, when the sky was getting darker, and he judged that no one was near the back of the dorm, he went out through the gate in the chain-link fence and retrieved the step ladder from under the bus to place it behind the indoor facility, under the window he had unlatched earlier. Then he returned to hover near the canteen, eat some more and talk briefly to whoever was willing to say a passing word to him.

The first sign he saw of their return was Kuramochi making his way to his dorm room, still wearing his official game kit. Sawamura had spotted him too, and sprinted over, obviously wanting to know where Miyuki was. A jerk of Kuramochi's chin in an upward direction told Ochiai that the vice-captain was informing Sawamura that Takashima had taken Miyuki upstairs to see Kataoka. Sawamura was still cheerfully laughing and grinning as he fired another question at Kuramochi, but his face suddenly changed as the shortstop replied. By the end of Kuramochi's answer, there wasn't a trace of a smile left on the first-year's face.

Sawamura walked into their room, and Kuramochi went in after him. They stayed in there for some time before Miyuki came downstairs and – after being held up by a string of players all asking how he was feeling – finally made it to the outside of Room 5. He was about to knock on their door when Kuramochi opened it, holding a change of clothes and a towel under his arm, clearly on his way to the bath house. Kuramochi's body language indicated he was telling Miyuki that he should go in and talk to Sawamura, and Ochiai thought he had miscalculated – perhaps he would now have to sneak into Toujou Hideaki's room next door to theirs to listen in by pressing his drinking glass to the thin divider wall.

But moments after Miyuki entered the room, Sawamura burst out of it, looking thunderous, refusing to speak as he marched towards the indoor training facility, Miyuki on his heels. Many players saw them, and a few made to follow, but Kuramochi seemed to be telling them that they should leave them alone. Ochiai discreetly went round the far end of the dorm, slipped over to the back near the chain-link fence, and from there, made his way behind the indoor facility. One of the security guards was looking at him curiously, but he muttered "coach's business", and ignored the man's stares.

By now, an early autumn darkness had settled in, and with either Sawamura or Miyuki having switched on the lights in the indoor facility, Ochiai felt certain they wouldn't see him outside the window. He'd opened the window a crack earlier only to be able to hear them; he intended to watch them through the glass, and the reflectiveness of that glass once the lights were on inside meant there was every chance they wouldn't see his face through the pane.

"…aren't we supposed to talk after the tournament?" Miyuki was asking as Ochiai reached the top of the ladder.

"I'm not interested any more," Sawamura said. He sounded furious. He was keeping his voice down for once, which made it all the more obvious how angry he was.

They were both still wearing their playing kit – Miyuki, of course, had just returned from the clinic, and Sawamura hadn't bathed and changed either, because he had first been too busy hounding Kataoka along with the third-years, running all over the dorm chattering away to everyone in high spirits, then tucking into tea in the canteen. They were both messy and dirt-stained from the final match, which only added to the intensity of the mood as they stood about two feet apart, facing each other.

"Sawamura…" Miyuki was saying. "Now's the right time to talk. This visit to the clinic was only an initial check to make sure nothing was broken or torn – I still have to see Dr Higuchi tomorrow morning for more scans and a more detailed assessment – I won't be attending classes, and by the time I'm back, Kantoku will be announcing the outcome, and everyone will be asking me a million questions, and…"

"I told you. I'm not interested any more."

"Er… not interested in our talk, or in…?" Miyuki looked and sounded slightly worried.

"Why? Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?" Sawamura demanded abruptly.

"Wait… you're angry about my _injury_? You and everyone else knew at the stadium, didn't you? All you did there was grumble at me. Why are you so angry now?"

"I didn't know how bad it was!" Sawamura's voice started to rise in volume. "Three weeks? I don't even know how bad something like that must be – I've never been injured enough to need so much as three _days'_ rest!"

"Three weeks is only the initial assessment by the clinic – Dr Higuchi may say differently tomorrow – probably a lot less than that –"

But Sawamura was ignoring Miyuki's words as he ploughed on: "…If I'd known, I'd have gone to the clinic with you! At first when Kantoku spoke harshly to you I thought it was just a slump in your form. And then when I found out that it was an actual injury from yesterday's match, but you stayed on the field and kept playing, I thought it was just a minor thing, that you were only hampered by a… I don't know… a nasty stitch in your side or something…"

"You thought I just had a stitch in my side?" Miyuki sounded amazed. "Did you really think I'd have batted that ineffectively through most of the match because of a stitch?"

"Because you hid it so bloody well!" Sawamura was yelling now, his arms waving wildly, although he made no move to step closer to Miyuki. "You didn't tell me anything about being hurt from the collision the day before. You didn't say anything to me. You just pretended! And you caught for me at night and this morning when I woke you up early even though you should have been resting. Y – you sat there on the bench last night coolly drinking tea with me – you idiot! You were hiding something so big from me and… and it makes me really upset to know that _I didn't notice_!"

"Baka," Miyuki said softly. "I made very sure you didn't notice."

"Bastard. You even made sure I was out there on the field waiting for my turn at bat when you were examined by the physio, didn't you? And you didn't say anything to me after everyone else in the locker room found out how serious it could be because you didn't want me to worry, right?"

"Well, you being away from the locker room at that point was a coincidence – but it's true that I didn't want you to fuss over me – you'd have held back in your pitching if you'd known."

"You let Furuya and Kawakami-senpai know!" Sawamura yelled louder, turning red in the face.

"Kawakami was done pitching for the day, and Furuya is the kind of guy who'd be single-minded enough not to hold back an ounce of his strength even if he thought I was one breath away from dying – and indeed, he didn't hold back at all. But _you_ would have."

"You're a really horrible person!"

"I keep getting told that."

"Because it's true!"

"I didn't want you to fret over my condition. I was still fine. I wouldn't have played at all if I hadn't believed I'd be the best person to lead you guys out on the field. I really didn't want _you_ in particular to be upset…"

"I just want to grab you by your jersey right now and shake you up harder than I ever have, but – but I can't even _do_ that because you've gone and got yourself injured!" Sawamura hollered, turning away from Miyuki in frustration, tearing his fingers through his already-messy hair.

"To be precise, it was Ogawa who went and got me injured," Miyuki said with a smile, all calmness in contrast to Sawamura's agitation.

"Shut up!" Sawamura yelled, spinning back around to face Miyuki. "And stop smiling! I could punch you! I would too if you weren't already hurt!"

"Oh, don't hold back just because I have a wee little pull in my abdominals," Miyuki teased.

"'Wee little pull' my ass! You'll be out for three whole weeks! That's a serious injury!"

"Come on, Sawamura, I'm not that fragile – getting shaken up a bit by you won't do any harm," Miyuki laughed. "And I'm sure I'll be fine in less than two weeks – these doctors are always excessively cautious…"

"Bullshit! You need to rest and not do anything stupid!"

"But I _miss_ being grabbed by you," Miyuki purred, sounding almost as if he was pouting, except that he wasn't, for he was keeping that annoyingly smug smile on his face. "You don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass."

"Th – that's exactly how I'm going to treat you for the next three weeks! Like glass!"

"Awww… Furuya is so much more uncompromising and _fun_ than you…" Miyuki complained, stepping towards Sawamura.

"Fun?! _Furuya?_" Sawamura exploded, stepping back.

"He didn't hold back on the strength of his pitches today, and he wouldn't hold back either if it came to having to shake me till my teeth rattled in my head – _if_ he were into that kind of thing, that is, which he isn't. I think."

"Hey, I'm not 'into' that kind of thing either, you weirdo – does this have something to do with what Kuramochi-senpai was saying about your mas… er… maso… um… whatever… tendencies?"

"He and Rei-chan are so full of exaggeration. You're nice to get that close to, that's all. And if I can do it most effectively by making you mad enough to grab me, why wouldn't I?" Miyuki took another step towards the pitcher.

Sawamura, stepping backwards, started warning him off: "Hey, hey, why are you coming closer? Stay back. Don't you _dare_ try to make me give you a good shake, you hear? You're not in any fit state to be rattled like that…"

"So you won't grab me and give me a good shake?"

"Of course not, you idiot! Stay back!"

"And you won't retaliate no matter _what_ I do?" Miyuki moved in closer, cornering Sawamura near the nets.

"You're fucking injured! Of course I won't retaliate no matter how much you provoke me! You're _not_ going to make me grab you today!"

"Then can _I_ grab _you_?"

"WHAT? Hey, what do you think you're doing? Miyuki Kazuya!" Sawamura hissed, finding his back pressed against the net and Miyuki's hands on his shoulders.

"Keep still, you moron."

"Hey… Miyuki… are you crazy…?"

By this time, Sawamura had nowhere to go unless he chose to send the entire frame of the net crashing to the ground behind him, and Miyuki's hands had slid up from his shoulders to his neck, and his face.

"Well, you don't want to have that talk I've been waiting to have with you for weeks now, even though we promised we'd talk after the final, right?" Miyuki said, grinning like the cat that had finally got the cream.

Sawamura mostly had his back to Ochiai at this moment, and he couldn't see much of the pitcher's face, but he could observe the deep flush creeping onto the boy's left cheek, which Miyuki was gently stroking with his fingertips. "I… I'm too mad at you to talk," he muttered, but there was little conviction in his voice any more, not with his catcher right up against him, cupping his face.

"So if you won't let us have that talk, then I'm just going to have to _show_ you, aren't I?" Miyuki's cheeky smile turned gentler.

"W – wh – what do you think you're doing?" Sawamura stammered, planting his hands against Miyuki's chest.

"Oi, stop pushing back – you're not supposed to retaliate no matter what I do, remember?" Miyuki reminded him.

"Hey, wait a minute…"

"Don't push me away, Sawamura – you wouldn't hurt an _injured man_, would you?" Miyuki said persuasively, lowering his voice.

"Miyuki Kazuya, you're a horrible person…" Sawamura murmured, his hands still on Miyuki's chest, but only resting there now.

"I know," Miyuki said softly, and kissed the other boy on the lips.

Sawamura went still for several seconds before kissing Miyuki back – it looked to Ochiai like an awkward, clumsy kiss between the two inexperienced teenagers they probably were, but it was earnest, and Sawamura's hands were slowly dropping to Miyuki's waist, which was when he suddenly pulled both his hands and face back.

"D-does it hurt? You've got bandages on, don't you?" Sawamura asked worriedly. "Did I hurt you?"

"Told you I'm not that fragile, _baka_. These bandages are just giving a bit of support to the muscles for now. You can touch me anywhere you like," Miyuki whispered back, keeping his face close to Sawamura's.

"Are you sure? We can just talk."

"_Now_ you want to talk?" Miyuki asked in amusement.

"You're injured, you idiot. You shouldn't be _doing_ stuff…"

"Oh, there's _lots_ I can do even in this state," Miyuki smiled meaningfully.

"Who said I wanted to do _lots_ with you?" Sawamura grumbled, but his hands were on Miyuki's waist again.

And Miyuki was leaning in again, saying: "Don't shove me away now, Sawamura – don't wound me…"

"You change your tune to suit your purposes, don't you, you horrible captain?" Sawamura asked with a smile, judging by what Ochiai could make out from the uplifted left corner of his mouth.

"Of course I do – and it's worth being called nasty and horrible if it gets me what I want – which is _you_ right now," Miyuki stated, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to Sawamura's again, slipping one hand round to the back of the other boy's neck to pull him closer.

Ochiai had seen enough. His curiosity was satisfied. If the kissing – and more – went on later in the privacy of one of their bedrooms, it would be beyond his means to know that, and it would surely be far more unseemly of him to try to spy on that than for the boys to engage in it at all, school rules or not.

He climbed down, closed the step ladder and wrapped it up in the tarpaulin sheet, ignoring how ridiculous he must look in the security guard's eyes. He carried it out to where his car was parked, not that far from the team bus, and locked the ladder in the boot so he could bring it back safely on Tuesday to return it to the bus driver.

It was almost dinner time, and he was strolling back in through the gate in the chain-link fence when he saw a small group of players walking from the dorm towards the indoor area.

Sawamura Eijun was a contagion, all right, but Ochiai was starting to think that he might not be too dangerous a kind of disease to catch. So in defiance of his previous contempt for the boy, and in defiance of his former loathing of all that was improper in the odd behaviour among the players (it was a _winning_ team, wasn't it?), Ochiai found himself doing yet another peculiar thing for the second evening in a row – he walked up to the group of boys bound for the indoor facility, stopped them from proceeding, and shooed them back towards the canteen, saying: "The indoor training area and the training fields are off limits tonight – just enjoy your dinner and have fun – my orders."

His friend the bus driver would be so proud of him.


	18. Seen And Heard

**Alert:** Lemony stuff ahead. Not really sure how to accurately label and rate it, though. Cos it's not like Mr VP actually _sees_ anything...

* * *

**Seen And Heard**

* * *

In which the vice-principal doesn't know what hit him

* * *

The vice-principal of Seidou High had a strong suspicion that the principal sometimes ditched him for secret spying missions. How his superior managed to give him the slip regularly, then show up for work the next day with a smug look and enviably informed hints about how things _really_ were in the school, was beyond him.

Going by the minor disciplinary ruckus that had ruffled the waters in the baseball team a few months ago, the vice-principal gathered that some of the most interesting incidents worth spying on took place in the dorm after training hours.

So he waited for a day when the principal had to leave early to attend a seminar for the heads of schools in the Tokyo area, and took the opportunity of the man's absence to stroll around the compound housing the indoor training area and dormitory.

It was two days after Seidou had amazingly, fabulously won the autumn tournament and qualified for the Meiji Jingu and Spring Koushien. Everyone was in an upbeat mood. Kataoka had been persuaded to take back his resignation letter, the principal had asked Kataoka and Takashima to ask Ochiai if he would be willing to stay on as an assistant coach, and the entire school was in high spirits. Captain Miyuki Kazuya was injured, but recovery would take only three weeks, and if all went smoothly, he would be fighting fit in time for the winter training camp, then the Spring Koushien tournament.

It was half an hour before dinner time. Most of the players were in their rooms, probably doing homework, but some were heading to or returning from the bath house and laundry room, and the dorm was filled with that air of being about to spring to life with about sixty hungry kids ready to swarm into the canteen. Perhaps he had come too early; perhaps he'd hear more interesting, secret stuff worth boasting about if he came later in the night. But they were deep into autumn, the nights were getting cold, and he didn't fancy wandering around here with the wind hustling his sadly skinny joints at 10 o'clock or so…

Wait a minute – what was that he just saw? Was that… were those two Takigawa Chris Yuu and Tanba Kouichirou he saw there in that doorway upstairs, and was that _a peck on the cheek_ from Tanba to Chris just before the former ace walked away from that door and went back to his own room?

The vice-principal shook his head. No. He was quite far away, on the other side of the compound, and he might not have seen clearly – they were upstairs, after all, and it might have been something else altogether. Besides, they were third-year students who were just a couple of months away from taking their final exams and graduating from Seidou. He shouldn't worry too much about a _possible_ peck on the cheek from one to the other.

Still, he felt perturbed enough to walk up the stairs nearest to that end of the dorm, but there was nothing there to see now. Both Chris' and Tanba's room doors were now firmly closed. However, he then saw movement in another doorway, and Kawakami Norifumi emerging with an embarrassed grin (wait, wait, why was second-year Kawakami coming out of one of the bedrooms allocated to the retired third-years?). The reason for that flush on his cheeks and the bashful smile on his face became obvious when Miyauchi Keisuke, whose room it was, emerged part of the way past the door frame too, and leaned out to snatch at Kawakami's hand.

"Miya-senpai, that's enough!" Kawakami laughed. "I have to go get ready for dinner. Later, okay?"

Chuckling, Miyauchi sent Kawakami off with a smack to his bottom, and the second-year pitcher flushed a deeper pink all over his face before running off to his own room. Miyauchi saw the vice-principal before he went back into his room, but as cool as a cucumber, the muscular catcher simply nodded and bowed politely to him before closing the door in his face.

Feeling slightly dumbstruck, the vice-principal walked towards the wing where Kawakami's room was. However, before he could stand outside the pitcher's door, scratching his curly head of hair as he tried to puzzle out the odd scenes he'd just witnessed this evening, his attention was seized by the hyena-like cackling of Kuramochi Youichi, who was leaning against the frame of the door right at the end of the walkway on this floor. The vice-principal remembered that Shirasu Kenjirou's room was the very last one at the far end of this wing on the upper level, and Kuramochi was there, looking at his phone and talking to the other second-year inside: "Wakana's agreed to meet me early next year – I'll try to find a day during our New Year's week off to take the train up to Nagano to see her."

Shirasu's response from within the room gave the vice-principal pause for thought. "You're going to meet Sawamura's girlfriend alone?"

"Told you she's not his girlfriend. They're just childhood friends. Wakana sort of tested the waters with Sawamura on the day of the final by texting him to hint that she'd like to be with him, but the idiot went and broke her heart by giving her some incredibly dumb reply about how it wouldn't be possible for them to do anything if they were stuck together, or some stupid shit like that, and she's given up on even going there any more."

"You're taking advantage of her heartbreak by working your way into her life?"

"I'm already in her life! We text each other all the time! I'm just going to prove to her that there are a hell of a lot more fish in the sea than Bakamura! She's a fantastic girl, and I'm going to be her man!"

"Kuramochi… ah well, as long as it doesn't cause any problems for the girl, or your studies and playing, or between you and Sawamura."

Kuramochi threw his head back and laughed: "Bakamura's got far more exciting things on his mind than his childhood friends right now. Why do you think I'm up here talking to you? He and you-know-who need the room to be alone together!"

What Shirasu murmured in reply the vice-principal didn't know, because his head was reeling. He staggered downstairs, trying to process what he'd seen and heard of Tanba and Chris, Miyauchi and Kawakami, and Kuramochi stealing Sawamura's girlfriend while Sawamura needed the room to be alone with… _who_?

When he reached the ground floor, he glimpsed Sawamura – with Miyuki. If it hadn't been for what he'd just heard, he probably wouldn't have paid them any attention, even though it was true that other players were starting to move towards the canteen whereas these two were casually walking in the opposite direction and entering a room instead. The sight of the pair going into Room 5 also triggered a recollection of something the principal had mentioned a few months ago (after one of those annoyingly secret inspections, no doubt) – some vague reference to Miyuki behaving "inappropriately" to Sawamura outside that very room. And there was _something_ about how the two of them had interacted before entering the room – walking close together, Miyuki's fingers tweaking Sawamura's T-shirt…

The vice-principal stood at the end of the veranda for several minutes, waiting to see if they would emerge and head for the canteen like everyone else who was ravenous for dinner, but the door didn't open again. He looked around to make sure no one was watching him, feeling absurdly like an intruder about to commit a crime. As vice-principal, he had every right to be here and snoop into every corner if he chose, but he didn't want to raise the alarm among the students by letting any of them see his actions. He also felt it would be embarrassing to share his thoughts with the security guards – what was he supposed to say? Would it sound odd if he were to tell them: "Er… I decided to spy on two players because they looked a little too close for my liking"?

No one was watching, as far as he could see, so he knocked at Room 6, then tested the door handle. It turned easily, giving him access to the empty room. That wasn't too surprising – cases of theft in the players' dorm had always been extremely rare in Seidou; the kids usually locked their doors during classroom and training hours, as well as when they turned in for the night, but many tended to leave their rooms unlocked from dinner time to bedtime.

Inside Room 6, he looked about for something he could use as a listening tool, and pounced on an empty drinking tumbler on one of the desks. He positioned the open end of the tumbler against the thin dividing partition that separated this room from Sawamura's, and pressed his right ear against the base of the tumbler.

The first voice he heard was Sawamura's, judging by its timbre: "…should be more supportive! You can't keep moping around while we're training, making miserable comments about how the rest of us are getting along too sickeningly well for your liking! Is that the sort of thing a captain should say?"

"Probably not," came Miyuki's voice – and it most likely came with a smirk, going by the way the words were enunciated.

"Then stop doing it," Sawamura ordered.

"Nah. I like seeing the annoyed looks on all your faces. And I especially won't stop because it irks me when I see _you_ getting close to the others while I'm not a part of it."

"You are and always will be a part of it, idiot captain! Even if you can't train with us right now, you can be a more positive and encouraging member of our team!"

Just when the vice-principal was thinking that nothing more dubious than a tiff seemed to be going on between the teammates, Miyuki went on to say: "I hear you. Let's not waste time arguing about this – it's not easy for us to be totally alone, in private, and I don't want to spend it talking about stuff we could easily argue about in front of everyone else. It's not an ideal or long-term arrangement, but for now, Kuramochi's agreed to give us the room 15 minutes before dinner time on most days, and if we show up 25 minutes after dinner officially starts, there should still be people queuing up at the counter, so we won't look too conspicuous. At least not the first few times."

"Which gives us… 40 minutes alone," Sawamura said.

"_Ooh_, he can do sums in his head," Miyuki chuckled.

"Shut up, Miyuki Kazuya!" Sawamura snapped.

"You're so fun to wind up, I can't resist it," the captain laughed, following it up swiftly with a hasty apology when the sound of stomping feet suggested that Sawamura was heading for the door. "Okay, I'm sorry! Come here, _baka_ – don't make me run after you – I'm not supposed to run, you know. Rei-chan, Kantoku and about a dozen players have threatened me with a gruesome death if I move any faster than one kilometre an hour for the next three weeks."

"Yeah, I'm one of them, if you remember," Sawamura growled.

"So don't make me chase you – I thought I'd already done that _and_ caught you…" Miyuki's voice communicated layers of meaning, mostly naughty, while soft, steady, purposeful footfalls suggested that he was walking up to the other boy.

"You say the most embarrassing things," Sawamura muttered.

"Only because I love watching you react," Miyuki murmured, his voice dipping so low that the vice-principal almost couldn't make out what he was saying. "But I think I'm starting to like it even better after you turn all red, and I've finished laughing at you, and I get to make it up to you like this…"

Silence. Not the kind of sterile silence that descended when two people in the same room had suddenly decided to stop talking to each other because they no longer wished to talk, but the kind of significant silence that emerged when they were no longer talking because they were _doing something else together_. Like – like – horror of horrors… surely those two boys weren't… _kissing_…?

"Mmm…" came a throaty growl from one of them.

Probably definitely most likely kissing.

Sawamura's voice, when it broke the silence, was a little husky, but had a cheeky edge: "I knew it – I knew you only wanted me for my body."

"Got me there," Miyuki responded just as cheekily, before continuing more seriously. "Truthfully, though, that _was_ the case to begin with – I wanted to get my hands all over you, and I didn't know why, and it unnerved me."

"And you needed to talk to me about it after I confronted you, but you were afraid you'd freak me out," Sawamura said.

"Yeah. So… did it freak you out? When you guessed what was going on?" Miyuki asked.

The telltale creak of a piece of furniture suggested to the vice-principal that one or both of them had moved away from the door, deeper into the room, and were now sitting, or lying, on one of the beds – from the sound of it, it was the bed right next to the very wall he was holding the tumbler against.

"A bit at first," Sawamura admitted, his voice as clear as day. "You weren't exactly subtle about it, even though I'm sure you thought you were being very clever and cryptic. I _was_ a bit weirded out. But the more I thought about it, the less I minded. I mostly just wasn't sure _why_ – why you'd want to get closer to me even while you were calling me an idiot every third sentence."

"It's a term of endearment," Miyuki's voice was equally clear now – the two kids were probably just two feet from the vice-principal.

"Bullshit."

"It _is_ a term of endearment, _and_ we both agree you're a pretty big idiot, _and_ a lot of the time, I seem to be an even bigger idiot than you, so there's nothing contradictory there."

"You can talk your way into and out of anything, can't you, Miyuki Kazuya?"

"Maybe. But I mean what I'm saying. I can't explain the _why_ very well – I only know I wanted to touch you moments after we first met, and then you showed up again months later, loud, enthusiastic, emotional and the easiest person ever to tease, and I _still_ wanted to be all over you, but I couldn't say so or do anything about it. I tried to keep my distance, but I'd cave in all the time by making you mad enough to grab me and shake me every other day. I thought it would fade, but bit by bit, you were making everything warm and bright and clear where it used to be cold and clouded, and I couldn't stop myself. That's the best I can explain it… whoa, whoa – are you crying, _baka_?"

"No." Uttered with a distinct sniffle.

"You know Kuramochi will kick me and _really_ break a rib or two if you show up at dinner with red eyes and he thinks I made you cry…"

"You shouldn't say things like that – nice things – caught me off-guard because it's so unlike you."

"Do you _really_ think I'm that nasty?" Miyuki asked, sounding as if he was trying to sound hurt.

"I thought we established that ages ago," Sawamura sniffed.

"Ohh…? Then if I'm so nasty, how come you don't mind me doing _this…_?"

Another intense silence strongly suggestive of a lip-lock in progress, confirmed as such when it was broken half a minute later by the soft but unmistakable popping sound of two pairs of lips pulling wetly apart, and a mild, protesting moan as the kiss ended. The protest must have originated from Miyuki's throat, because it was Sawamura who spoke almost at the same time: "I like you doing that because I like _you_, Miyuki Kazuya – and I like you as the whole imperfect nasty messed-up creature you are – just as you are, not in spite of how you are."

A different kind of silence descended for five seconds – the heavy kind where conversation had stopped because one of the parties was processing something. And at the end of those five seconds, Miyuki said with such wonderment and simplicity that he was probably being sincere: "That's… actually, really… sweet."

Rustling-fabric noises, more creaking of the bed frame, sounds of two bodies shifting about, then Sawamura asking: "Hey, what are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to hold you, _baka_."

"Uh-uh, not like that – I'll only end up crushing your ribs and we don't want that now."

"Then I'll get on top."

"With your pulled muscles, I'm not allowing you to prop yourself up over me that way – it'll be too much of a strain on your abdominals."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"Just sit here quietly and don't do anything strenuous… _aagh_! Hey!" Sawamura hissed. The vice-president heard their bodies hitting the mattress.

"Hmm, It's not too strenuous if I do it like _this_ – I think I've learnt a trick or two from Kuramochi about holding you down with minimal effort." Miyuki was definitely smirking as he spoke those words.

"Miyuki Kazuya! You're going to hurt yourse… mmmph… don't… mmngh…"

Without a doubt, the noises were now those of wet, deep, hungry kissing.

"Miyuki… you shouldn't… mmm…"

"It doesn't hurt –" _kiss_ "– look –" _kiss_ "– I'm putting my weight on my left side –" _kiss_ "– it doesn't hurt much when I do that –" _kiss_ "– so it's fine."

"Damn you Miyuki, that's nice…"

"You like this?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Eijun…"

"Hmm?"

"Can I… touch…?"

"Have you done this before?"

"Well, I've done _me_ before," Miyuki chuckled. "It can't be too different… ah, but… I suppose it's best if you tell me what you like."

"I'm not sure I'd know how to say it in words – it'd be weird."

"Show me, then."

"That's even weirder."

"Then let me… can I?"

"Only if you let me touch too."

"Okay, but later – I'm a lot more interested in you than in me right now."

"Are you _sure_?" Sawamura sounded like he was grinning. "You're as hard as a rock."

"Oi, _I_ asked permission, but _you're_ just groping me without so much as a by your leave! Who's the rude one now?"

"Um… we're being rude together?" Sawamura asked brightly.

"We certainly _are_," Miyuki purred, with a good deal more significance and intent than Sawamura's comparatively innocent line.

The subtle sound of clothing sliding away from skin, then…

"Miyuki… _nnnhhh_…" Sawamura moaned softly, sounding as if he was trying to stifle his cry, undoubtedly because Miyuki must have made his first serious move.

"You're so _hot_ – in every sense of the word," Miyuki murmured.

"Aaahh…"

"Is this okay for you?"

"Yes… mmm…"

"It's gotta be a little too dry to feel comfortable, though – what do you normally do when you're jerking off alone? Spit in your hand? I do." Miyuki was clearly grinning again.

"What?" Sawamura gasped, sounding slightly strangled – he was probably trying for mirth while drowning in the arousal and sensations Miyuki was drawing from him. "Hygiene freak like you?"

"I'm only particular about washing properly, _baka_. But in everything else, I like getting _filthy_ with _you_."

"Shut up… aaah-h-h… Miyuki."

Several moments of wordless grunts and gasps followed, probably elicited by Miyuki doing something to make Sawamura more _comfortable_ – like lubricating the other boy's dick with saliva, perhaps?

Then Miyuki was speaking again, asking both with the intensity of sexual excitement and his trademark playfulness: "And since when have you started calling me 'Miyuki' just like that, huh, Eijun? Since we've got to the stage where I'm already stroking your dick, shouldn't you be calling me Kazuya in private?"

"Bloody Miyuki Kazuya," Sawamura choked out, apparently close to climaxing.

"That's not polite of you," Miyuki said, still with that grin in his voice. "Tell you what – call me Miyuki-senpai and I'll finish this nicely for you…"

"Bastard! As if I'd – nnnnggh – _faster_!"

"I heard you during the Seiko game, you know, close to the end – did you think I didn't hear you yelling 'Miyuki-senpai!' at me?" Miyuki said breathily. "I heard you loud and clear, and it got me all excited, but I had to focus on connecting my bat with the damned ball. So come on, Eijun – say it again."

"As if I'd… hhhaaaah!"

"You can still call me Miyuki Kazuya in public, and I'll call you Sawamura, but here and now, say _senpai_."

"I'm not going to... h-h-hey… mmmrrrrgh… don't slow down!"

"I'll stop entirely if you don't call me Miyuki-senpai."

"Damn you – _unnnhh_ – Miyuki… _Miyuki-senpai_!"

The ferocious pace and pitch of the muffled cries that came hard on the heels of the honorific suggested that Miyuki was seeing the deed through to the end and steering Sawamura through a tremendous climax that would have impressed the vice-principal if he hadn't been simply glued to the tumbler and the wall in sheer horror.

A satisfied moan marked the young pitcher's descent from his peak, accompanied by the sound of another sloppy kiss, and Miyuki murmuring "You're beautiful, you idiot", his soft words nearly lost in Sawamura's heavy panting as the younger boy fought to catch his breath.

Which he succeeded in doing fast, with the speed of recovery one only had in youth, because the next thing the vice-principal heard was Sawamura growling: "And you're horrible, _senpai_!"

Chuckling, giggling, scuffling noises, the bed frame creaking furiously, and Miyuki suddenly raising his voice a little to say urgently: "O – oi, Eijun! You'll re-injure me!"

"No I won't," Sawamura stated with conviction. "You've been milking your injury for all it's worth for days, starting with stealing my first kiss from me, and I know damned well you're _not as fragile as that_, to quote you!"

"C-careful…"

"Eh, don't worry – I'm mostly pressing against your left side, and if you could lie on that to jerk me off, you can bloody well handle a bit of this. Now take it off."

"Eijun, there's no need to… _gnnnnghhh_ – oi, oi – are you sure that's a good idea… hhahh… _Eijun_… _shit_, that feels fantastic…"

"Shut up, _senpai_," Sawamura murmured. "Relax. Stop tensing. Or you'll strain your muscles."

The distinctive, wet popping noise just before Sawamura spoke told the frozen-to-the-spot vice-principal – who hadn't had a blow job from his wife in far too long – that Sawamura Eijun had just begun _going down_ on Miyuki Kazuya.

"Are you sure you haven't done this before? Because you're actually pretty darn amazing at it… mmmm… shit, Eijun, I don't think it's possible not to strain my muscles when you're s-so damn good… unnnh…"

Another wet popping noise as Sawamura interrupted the process once again to snap at Miyuki: "Yes, _Miyuki-senpai_, this is actually my first time. I did an online search on my phone on how to do this, so shut up and stop tensing, or I'll _bite_. And you know I have a lot of teeth."

"You _looked it up online_...? Ahhh... okay... Shit. Right. Lots of teeth. Okay, I'll… unnngh… hhh… that's so good…"

More embarrassingly sloppy noises and frantic grunts reached the vice-principal's ears, then a gasp and a more helpless sound than he had ever heard Miyuki Kazuya make, then heaving breaths, and it was clear that the catcher had come.

"H-hey, you don't have to… just spit it… wow, did you just swallow?" Miyuki asked with no small degree of wonder in his voice, slightly hushed and hoarse with exertion.

"Uh-huh."

"You should have just…"

"I don't mind."

"We're already messy enough as it is – one more load of cum wouldn't have made much of a difference to the state of our clothes," Miyuki laughed softly.

"Damn. We're a bloody mess," Sawamura muttered.

"Yes we are," Miyuki agreed, sounding quite unreasonably smug.

"What are you going to wear to dinner?"

"Fuck." The smugness had vanished in an instant.

The bed frame creaked, and the vice-principal could hear bare feet trotting over the carpeted floor – probably Sawamura's.

"Okay, don't panic – I've got this plain blue T-shirt that could probably pass for one of yours if no one looks too closely," the pitcher said, sounding a bit muffled now, as if he had his head in the wardrobe – which he probably did. "And… sweatpants… this black pair should be anonymous enough, right? You've got something like this too?"

"Perfect."

"Here, wipe your hands on my T-shirt," Sawamura said, in tandem with the sound of an article of clothing being whipped off. "It's a mess anyway."

"Put it at the bottom of your laundry basket – and let's hope Kuramochi doesn't spot it."

"I'll do my laundry right after dinner."

"Here – here – wipe yourself too – use mine – and stuff it at the bottom of the basket too – shit, I hope Kuramochi doesn't notice that these items in the basket are mine."

"He'll laugh his head off. And pretend to be disgusted."

"Oh hell, forget him. Dinner – we have to go."

"Okay."

The rushed sounds of footwear being pulled on at the genkan, then the unlocking, opening and shutting of the door as the pair hurried to the canteen.

Feeling rather close to fainting, and really wishing his wife would give him blow jobs again, the vice-principal stumbled out of Room 6 once he was sure the coast was clear, and left the dorm compound in a daze.

First thing the next morning, he put his head round the door of the principal's office, and asked to speak to him about a serious matter.

"There are terrible things going on in the dormitory," he told his superior in a shaky voice. "Simply terrible. The things I've seen and heard…"

"Oh, I've heard terrible things too, but they mostly turned out to be nothing worth fretting about," the principal said calmly, with a serene smile on his face. "I mean, I thought the boys were involved in an orgy! But it turned out to be nothing but wrestling, shougi, massage and video games! Hahaha!"

"No, no, no – this time it's the real thing – boys are kissing and smacking each other on the bottom and stealing each other's girlfriends and… and…" he lowered his voice to a whisper here. "…and _touching_ each other, if you get my drift."

"Ah, we see plenty of playful mock-kisses and smacks to the bottom, and girls will always be a source of contention among healthy teenage boys," the principal said lightly. "But the 'touching' – erm – what exactly did you see?"

"Oh, I didn't _see_ anything – I just _heard_ the conversation, and those… those noises!"

"Ahahaha!" the principal laughed. "Then it was probably just like what I overheard – just plenty of sound and fury, but nothing in it, really!"

"I _really_ don't think it was nothing!" the vice-principal insisted, his voice turning into a shushed hiss. "They were _jerking each other off_! Or one of them was, and the other was _sucking his… friend… off_!"

"Really, I'm sure it was nothing…" the principal said, his smile looking a little strained now as he toyed with a pencil.

"I'm telling you, it was SOMETHING!" the vice-principal had to clap his hands over his mouth right after saying that as he realised he had almost yelled at the top of his voice.

The principal's smile was truly looking extremely strained now, but he was holding it determinedly in place, and sounded very much as if he was fighting hard to keep his voice level when he replied to his subordinate: "It. Doesn't. Matter. You know and I know that _some_ odd things are going on in that dorm, but on an official level, what I once thought was an orgy turned out to be NOTHING, and we are officially KEEPING it that way, damn it. We've finally qualified for Koushien after all these years, and whatever the hell kind of team Kataoka is building up, I don't care right now because it's a WINNING team, and we are going to KOUSHIEN, and if the funny business in the dorm is all a part of keeping this a winning team, then we are not going to look too CLOSELY at said funny business, and that's final. Understood?"

The pencil the principal had been holding snapped in two, and the vice-principal, looking at that strained, round face of his superior's, shut his mouth, nodded stiffly and retreated to his own office.

His boss was right. It was so much easier this way. He couldn't bear the idea of any official disciplinary fallout from this jeopardising their ticket to Koushien. No one would say anything; the baseball federation would never know.

Nothing was going on.

It was all officially good.


	19. Time To Share

**Time To Share**

* * *

In which Kouta thinks the boys need to meet more girls

* * *

"I wish you could catch for me," Kouta Youji heard Sawamura Eijun say to Miyuki Kazuya between swigs of water during a break in the afternoon's training.

"I wish I could catch for you too," Miyuki gave the pitcher a smile offset by the furrows between his brows, making his overall expression one of frustration and a degree of helplessness. "I can't believe I'm actually saying that, but for once, it's quite true."

"Miyuki Kazuya, you…" the annoyance the pitcher felt was apparently too complex to put accurately into words.

Kouta noticed that the catcher had been sitting out of training for several days now. He was nearly always present at practice, but appeared to have been forbidden to do anything more than walk, sit, turn a page and hold a pen. The kid sat himself down on chairs, benches, the stands or in the dugout, depending on where the rest of the team was, but only watched the others and shouted less-than-encouraging words at them.

Today, he was perched on a chair that had almost certainly been nicked from a classroom, its slender legs unsuited for standing level on the rather uneven ground of this edge of the training field. The chair's wobbling movements reminded Kouta that his team would have to level the worn portions of the two fields soon. Tomorrow, during lesson hours, would be a good opportunity to do one field, and they'd have to persuade the team to use the other field until the soil and new patches of grass could take.

"It's frustrating, being ordered to sit and do nothing until the inflammation goes down," Miyuki muttered.

"Even when it does go down, that's when you'll have to start physio, and you won't be allowed to train with us until Dr Higuchi gives you the all-clear," Sawamura reminded him sternly, eyes flashing, the line of his mouth straighter than usual.

"I know," Miyuki sighed, sounding remarkably miserable for a kid who normally sported one variation or another of a smirk. "And I wish I could play in the Jingu."

Sawamura's facial expression softened immediately, and he put a hand on Miyuki's shoulder. "Hey, _Kazuya_," the boy's voice dipped considerably in volume when he spoke the other's given name. "You'll be right back in training sooner than you think."

Kouta had a vantage point off to the side of the pair, where he was fixing a large dent in the links of one of the batting cages that had been dragged aside for him to work on. And he saw that Sawamura's hand, while still resting quite neutrally on his captain's shoulder, was doing something that probably couldn't be seen by the other players or staff around as the kid had angled his body to block their view: his thumb was gently stroking the skin of Miyuki's neck above the collar of the catcher's jersey.

Aha. So Tanba Kouichirou had succeeded in getting Chris to back off from Sawamura, after all, and Sawamura was going out with Miyuki, whom he'd had a spat with on the day Kouta had first observed Chris' fascination with the first-year? Uh-oh. Was Chris upset by this? Did he know? Kouta hadn't noticed his friend's son behaving any differently from before – but that was because Chris had retired from the team some time ago and wasn't around the baseball facilities as much; Kouta had fewer opportunities to keep an eye on him.

"It's not just the three weeks in themselves, _Eijun_," Miyuki's voice dipped too when he spoke the other's name. "After not training for three weeks, I won't be either practice-fit or match-fit. It's going to take time to recover that fitness – I'll probably be the first to drop out of winter training, and Kantoku will ban me from the baseball club altogether, haha."

The laughter was mirthless.

The colour rose again in Sawamura's cheeks as he snapped: "Hey, I won't have you talking in such a bleak way, Miyuki Kazuya! You'll get back every type of fitness you need to carry on performing fantastically like you always have! You chose to worsen your injury by hiding it in the first place, so take the consequences like a man!"

"You don't understand," Miyuki said, grumpily, although he belied that tone of voice by discreetly reaching out to tweak Sawamura's jersey, running his fingers down parallel to the buttonholes. "You've never been in this position before."

Sawamura looked momentarily hurt, but this fleeting expression was swiftly succeeded by a flash of light in his huge eyes – which spoke eloquently of his willingness to swallow an unpleasant truth – and then replaced by what Kouta thought was a generous acceptance of Miyuki's words.

"You're right," the pitcher declared. "I don't understand. I'm behind you and beside you and just _with_ you in everything and in every way, but there are so many things I'm not experienced enough to sympathise properly with you about, or just too dumb to get."

"Oi, I didn't mean…" Miyuki sounded slightly apologetic now, and he held on Sawamura's jersey by his thumb and index finger.

"I know you didn't mean to imply I was dumb, but you don't have to – we both know I am," Sawamura stated matter-of-factly, without bitterness. "But mostly, I'm just not experienced enough to help much with how you feel about this injury and what you're going through, so I think you should talk to someone who does."

"Oh?"

"Chris-senpai would know. I don't know how these things work, but if you could ask Takashima-sensei to arrange for you to do some of your rehabilitation at Chris-senpai's father's training centre, during the hour Chris-senpai is there, you'll be able to exchange notes with someone who's had it a lot worse than you."

"That's not a bad idea…"

"And keep talking to Tetsu-san about all the captain's crap you have to deal with – I may have captained my middle-school team, but the whole team was made up of my best friends, so I don't know what it's like having to lead people who don't always see eye-to-eye with you."

"Eijun…"

"Hmm?"

"Maybe you shouldn't be with me."

"Haaah?!"

"Shhh…"

"Why would you say that?!"

"I'm miserable and nasty and you're ten thousand rays of sunshine and I'm going to be so bad for your cheerfulness in the longer term…"

Sawamura took a step backwards and made all kinds of faces before spluttering: "Th- tha- that's exactly why I'm SHARING you, you idiot!"

It was Miyuki's turn to go: "Haaah?"

"I'm sharing you with Chris-senpai and Kuramochi-senpai and Tetsu-san and… and everyone who cares about you and can understand you better than I can in different ways, and you can be all miserable with all of us and I won't feel like I'm so useless when it comes to helping you!"

"You're sharing me with others?" Miyuki asked, sounding astonished, although it was hard for Kouta to tell how much of that astonishment was faked. "Wow. What is this now? Now _you're_ proposing a five-way session with me, Chris-senpai, Kuramochi, Tetsu-san and yourself?"

"THAT"S NOT WHAT I MEANT, YOU PERVERT!" Sawamura yelled, so much more loudly than his usual level of loud that every member of the baseball team and staff turned to stare at the two of them.

Miyuki, by now, was clutching his injured side, laughing himself breathless while gasping: "Ow, ow, ow… it hurts."

And there Kouta had been thinking that these two were trying _not_ to draw attention to how they were with each other. Then again, Sawamura must do this kind of thing often, because it took mere seconds for the team to shrug and look away again, with expressions on their faces that seemed to say: _Oh, it's just those two, having yet another dispute over something the rest of us couldn't even begin to comprehend…_

"Sawamura! Back to the bullpen!" Ono Hiroshi called out.

"_Hai!_ Be there in a minute, Ono-senpai!" the pitcher called back, still red in the face, before turning back to Miyuki to hiss: "I mean I'm giving you as much support as I can, however I can, and if it means having to rope in others who can help you better than I can by _listening to you, understanding you and giving you advice_, I'll do just that!"

Miyuki had stopped laughing midway through Sawamura's speech, and was now looking at him with only the traces of a smile twitching around the corners of his mouth. "Thanks, Eijun," he said softly. "I mean it."

"You're welcome, _Miyuki-senpai_," Sawamura grinned.

"Ooh, don't say that to me out here, or I might do something embarrassing…" Miyuki muttered.

"And it would serve you right, _Miyuki-senpai_."

"Dammit, Eijun, you know I can't hear you call me that now without getting all worked up," Miyuki groaned.

"I know," Sawamura replied smugly. "It _still_ serves you right."

"Sawamura!" Ono called again.

"Sorry, Ono-senpai! Be there in a second!"

"You'd better go," Miyuki told him.

"And you'd better talk to Chris-senpai."

"Okay."

"See ya later… _senpai_!"

With a cheeky grin, Sawamura sprinted back to the bullpen for the rest of the afternoon's training, leaving Miyuki squirming a little.

That was all Kouta got to hear about the developments of the personal relationships within the Seidou team for that day. He had to wait until mid-November, when the Meiji Jingu tournament was over, to learn more.

It happened at Animaru-san's gym in the National Training Centre. Kouta was there one evening to meet his friend for a drink, and he arrived at the end of Chris' and Miyuki's respective rehabilitation sessions. Animal had finished with his son's physio for the day, Miyuki was done with his therapist too, and the two boys were conversing with each other.

Animal was talking to a client whom Kouta recognised as a professional player who came in regularly for upper-body training, so he took this chance to listen in on the boys' exchange. Not wanting them to realise – at least not yet – that the head of the maintenance crew at their school was a friend of Chris' father, Kouta kept out of sight behind one of the screens that the trainers and therapists used to give their clients and patients privacy when necessary. Animal had first started this gym as a straightforward space where athletes could go through specific strength-training programmes, but at some point – presumably since his son's injury – he had extended its services. He now collaborated with a few physiotherapists who would come in to see patients on an as-needed basis. So there were a good few screens for Kouta to choose from for the purpose of concealing himself from the kids.

The first thing he heard as he waited was Chris reminding Miyuki rather sternly that he and Sawamura were still very young, and had better not go too far, too fast.

"You just turned 17 mere days ago, and Sawamura is still 16, so don't rush it. There's still so much you two need to learn about each other, and so much you need to learn about things you shouldn't be doing yet, if you get my drift."

"We haven't done _much_," Miyuki assured Chris a little awkwardly. "Really, not much – hardly more than any of us would do… uhm… to ourselves – if you get _my_ drift…"

"And I'd think that would be enough for now," Chris stated.

"I know," Miyuki said. "We're not rushing into anything too heavy."

"Sawamura doesn't think before doing things, and what with his need to try things out and do everything hands-on before he can fully understand them, he's the one who'll be much more likely to want to do more than he should be engaging in, so you'll have to put the brakes on for both your sakes. Don't give in to him all the time."

"It's hard. I want to be all over him too."

"Were you playing on the word 'hard' there?" Chris asked in a lighter tone.

"No, I was – aagh, Chris-senpai! No!" Miyuki groaned. "I thought I was bad, but I can't beat you even when it comes to being warped!"

Chris chuckled softly, and Kouta could just imagine Miyuki, red in the face, maybe punching Chris lightly on his good arm. Or was their relationship not the kind where one would playfully punch the other? It suddenly also occurred to Kouta that he had no idea whether Miyuki knew anything about Chris' attraction to Sawamura, and wondered how cruel this conversation must be for Chris, when his unspoken queries were answered by Miyuki saying rather soberly:

"But really, Chris-senpai, there are moments when I wonder if it was just too selfish of me to pursue him. You would be so much better for him – warped sense of humour or not – whereas I'm probably all that's bad for him. I just knew I wanted him and gave chase, and didn't stop to think until now whether I'd be doing him a disfavour by being with him because I'm, well, what I am."

Chris kept silent for several seconds, and Kouta would have paid a good sum to be able to see the look on his face, but when he finally spoke, his voice was level and bore no trace of resentment: "This question of whether two people are good for each other or not… I don't think it's so essential, as long as one person isn't purposely setting out to damage the other. If both parties in the equation mean well, then I think what's important is _wanting_ to be together. Sawamura _wants_ to be with _you_, and that's what counts, in my opinion."

"It's probably only because you didn't ask him first."

"He wouldn't have wanted to be with me – not in the same way he wants to be with you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that even if I had been able to seduce him, he'd always be that puppy-like kid looking up to me as if I was perfect, the senpai who would always know better than him and tell him what to do. He would never be like he is with you – you're equals, he doesn't look at you with blind adoration, and he's seen every one of your flaws from the beginning but he still wants to be your partner. That's something I could never have had with him if he'd ever agreed to go out with me. Besides, he's never looked at me the way he looks at you – Tanba was right – you could see it in Sawamura's eyes – he respected me, but he _wants_ you."

"I'm sorry, Chris-senpai."

"For what?"

"I feel like I keep taking what's important from you – your spot on the first string during your second year, and now Sawamura…"

"Just don't make a move on Tanba next," Chris said, deadpan.

Miyuki was obviously stunned into silence, because Kouta could almost feel how solid the absolute stillness was between the two boys, and that stillness sat there for five long ticks of the second hand travelling around the clock on the wall, until Miyuki snorted and Chris laughed, and the dam broke.

"Ow, ow…" Miyuki complained breathlessly as he tried to hold his laughter in. "My sides hurt…"

"Good."

"You're evil, Chris-senpai."

"And you're not. Listen – you didn't take anything away from me. Life goes the way it goes. Where you and I are concerned, it's primarily been a case of my not being able to fulfil a role for one reason or another, and it was only after my inability to fulfil the role that it was discovered how well you were able to do just that. It's never been because you snatched anything from me."

"But I wanted to – when I first came to Seidou, I wanted to beat you to the position of first-choice catcher. I mostly just wanted to best you after you outmanoeuvred me so brilliantly in middle school. For a while, I even wanted _you_, although I guess a lot of that had to do with the frustration of not being able to properly compete against you as I'd wanted to since we'd last played in a match."

"Well, it's a good thing you didn't get me," Chris murmured in an amused voice. "You'd have been _terrible_ for me."

Miyuki chuckled: "I wouldn't wish myself on anyone – but poor Sawamura's stuck with me now. You and Tanba-san are luckier than he is, though – you're both such thoughtful people."

"I'm glad Tanba told me how he felt."

"Really?"

"I've never before had anyone look at me the way he does. It's… it's nice – more than nice. You should know, because that's how Sawamura looks at you now."

"Heh. Yeah," Miyuki sounded embarrassed. "I'm a little surprised that Tanba-san worked up the guts to make his move, though – but I think he knew you were worth the risk."

"Tanba's grown so much. I had no idea at the time, but looking back now, I realise that he was completely in awe of me in our first and second years at Seidou. He was so timid. If we'd got together somehow under those circumstances, then he might have been rather like Sawamura – always looking up to me, which would have put a lot of pressure on me. But he's different now. He's no longer afraid to say what he wants and to reach out for it… for me. He and I _want_ to be together, just like you and Sawamura want to be with each other, so don't circle that old ground again of whether you're good for him or not – just make that decision to _be_ good for him. Give him your best in all the ways you can."

"Thanks, Chris-senpai," Miyuki said sincerely. "Despite how much worse you've had it, you've spent days now helping me to accept my injury and the time I'll need to recover, and now you're helping me to feel less bad about other things too. Just… thanks."

"You're welcome."

The boys rose, started discussing sharing a taxi for the trip back to school, and left the gym after saying goodbye to Chris' father. Their farewells prompted Animal's client to take his leave too. That was when Kouta emerged to nudge his friend to stop work so they could go for that drink.

At the bar they liked best which was closest to the National Training Centre, Kouta and Animal slipped into their usual banter, and three drinks in, the retired athlete mentioned his son.

"Yuu has pretty much admitted – in his own discreet, vague way – that he's seeing a guy," the man sighed.

"I guessed that a little while ago, but I couldn't be absolutely sure, so I didn't want to say anything to you for fear of alarming you unnecessarily," Kouta confessed.

"It's one of his third-year friends – Tanba Kouichirou. I have to say I was very surprised that he ended up being attracted to another boy, but… if he's happy, and if it's a supportive relationship rather than a destructive one, that's what really matters. Besides, these things are sometimes just a phase."

"And if they're not?"

"Then… oh well, Tanba's a good kid. I know him. He's a nice boy, very decent. I suppose it could have been much worse. Yuu could have gone out with someone a lot nuttier who'd only distract him from his exams and then break his heart – someone like… I dunno… Crazy Boy?"

Kouta only just succeeded in not choking on his sake, and he took another careful sip before clearing his throat and remarking: "Yes, it could have been so much worse."

For the remainder of the year, Kouta caught more glimpses of Miyuki and Sawamura in stolen moments during training hours – a subtle touch here, a squeeze of the hand there – and more rarely, he would spot Chris and Tanba elsewhere on the grounds, talking softly to each other over their books and notes, heads close together, smiles playing on their lips.

On the one hand, Kouta thought these boys had spent way too much time in the company of other boys in the baseball team, and that they should really look around the rest of the school and get to know more of the girls better. On the other hand, he remembered what Animaru-san had said about how it was Chris' happiness that mattered, as well as whether the relationship was a supportive one, and Kouta found himself hoping that these kids were mature enough to forge constructive personal connections instead of damaging ones, as teenagers were so very capable of doing without a thought.

At least it all seemed to be going well for the two couples, and he gradually got so used to the idea of these boys going out with one another that he barely even blinked by the time the end of the year rolled around, and he spotted yet another male pair from Seidou the day after the winter camp.

School had been over for the rest of the students a week before, but the baseball players had stayed back to go through the gruelling week of training from 23 Dec until the morning of the 30th. They rested and packed on that last day, then the next morning, on New Year's Eve, they left Seidou for home.

Kouta, his work done for the day, was relaxing in a café alone that afternoon, waiting for his wife to call him so he could pick her up before going to her mother's place to help with the New Year preparations. As he drank his coffee and watched the world go by, two boys entered the café. They had changed out of their school uniforms, but he recognised them as Seidou students – the second-year pitcher, Kawakami Norifumi, he could identify at once; but the other took him a while longer to pin as the third-year reserve catcher he hadn't seen so often in action – Miyauchi Keisuke.

They didn't see him – perhaps they wouldn't have recognised him even if they had, as he wasn't in his workwear either. They took a booth near his, off to the side, where he could more or less see them out of the corner of his eye without turning his head too much.

They placed their orders and waited for the server to leave before saying anything to each other. By now, Kouta had seen all the ways boys were with one another when they were more than just friends, and he immediately twigged that this was yet another couple from the baseball team.

Really. Kataoka needed to get more girls in as student-managers – hell, with the way some girls were built these days, Kataoka needed to get a few in as _players_. But then… ah… if the boys really wanted to be sweet on one another, what could he say? This pair was certainly sweet.

"Okay, Miyauchi-senpai, coffee's definitely on me, because you paid for the movie tickets even though I said we were supposed to go dutch!" Kawakami said, sounding both terribly pleased and marginally annoyed all at the same time.

The bigger-built boy huffed lightly before replying: "But I really wanted to take you on a date, so even though you were the one who asked, I wanted to buy the tickets. I've always wanted to do that – take you out somewhere that wasn't on school grounds."

Kawakami was blushing – from what Kouta could tell at this angle – and chewing on his lower lip as he looked down at a spot on the table and said: "Well, thanks for taking me to the movies, then. I really enjoyed it."

"So did I."

"I wish we could go out like this more often," Kawakami mumbled shyly.

"When you're in the baseball team, there's almost no chance of that," Miyauchi remarked thoughtfully. "There's no time off for players except at the New Year. But if you're still serious about this – about us – and if all this hasn't completely freaked you out by then, we'll have plenty of time in future."

"It won't freak me out. I mean, it _is_ kind of odd, for me at least," Kawakami admitted. "I honestly never thought I'd date a guy. It simply never crossed my mind at all."

"It's my responsibility, isn't it? I made you think about it by saying things to you that you never imagined I would. And then I kept hoping even when I shouldn't have, and that made you _keep_ thinking about it," Miyauchi murmured.

"Don't say it like it's something wrong, Miyauchi-senpai," Kawakami told him firmly. "It's not. I just said it was odd because I'd never thought about it before I made up my mind, but it doesn't mean I don't like it. More to the point, it's because I like _you_ that I like this."

"You mean that?"

"Of course. And we can meet up during this week-long break – you don't live that far from me, after all," Kawakami said enthusiastically.

"I thought we agreed it was a good idea to have this date in Tokyo rather than Saitama precisely so we wouldn't run into people from our hometown," Miyauchi smiled.

"I don't care any more," Kawakami said frankly. "So we'll meet people we both know from home while… while sharing an ice-cream sundae or something, and I don't care if that happens."

"Eh? An ice-cream sundae in the middle of winter?"

"There's nothing wrong with eating ice cream in the middle of winter!" Kawakami protested.

"We'll freeze our teeth off."

"I'll kiss you warm again."

Miyauchi seemed to be left speechless for a moment at that bold statement. He finally found his tongue again, long enough to say: "That sounds nice."

Their coffee and sandwiches arrived, and there was a comfortable silence at their table as they got started on the fare.

"Mmm, this avocado and shrimp filling is great – here – have a bite," Kawakami said, holding out his sandwich to Miyauchi across the table.

Looking a little pink beneath the skin over his cheekbones, Miyauchi leaned forward and bit into the other boy's sandwich, but then, instead of sitting back and chewing on that bite, he continued his momentum of leaning across the table and covered the distance with his upper body to plant a kiss on the pitcher's lips before sinking back into his seat, his face aglow.

Kawakami blushed, and blushed again, looked about furtively to see if anyone was staring at them (no one was, and Kouta made sure he averted his gaze in time not to be caught by the second-year). Then he smiled helplessly, carried on eating his sandwich, and finally said between bites: "I'll slip away from my family tonight at Hikawa Shrine so I can spend the very first moments of the first day of the new year with you."

"I was planning to kidnap you to do just that, anyway," Miyauchi confessed.

Kawakami laughed. "Looks like you've got yourself a willing hostage, then."

"I can't tell you how pleased I am that he's a willing one."

"Well, he couldn't have found a better kidnapper."

Kouta saw Kawakami's foot nudge Miyauchi's playfully under the table, and watched as the other young man's foot nudged right back.

His wife texted him then, so he finished up his coffee, paid and left the café to meet her after casting one last look at the pair seated at the other table. He drove to the mall where his wife was done with her shopping, helped her load her groceries into the boot, and headed for his mother-in-law's place.

"I've been thinking," he murmured when they stopped at a traffic light.

"About what?" his wife asked as she rifled through her handbag for her compact foundation.

"Our son – I've changed my mind about wanting him to go to Seidou."

"Eh? Why?" she asked, startled. "I thought you said it was a great school. And he's shaping up to be a good baseball player."

"That school does funny things to boys on the baseball team. But our daughter can go – I think she'll be perfectly safe there."

"What _are_ you on about?"

Ignoring the incredulous look he knew his wife was giving him right then, Kouta negotiated the turn into the thoroughfare that would take them to her mum's house as he directed his thoughts towards everything they'd need to do before midnight of the last day of this eventful year, and away from those hormone-driven kids on the Seidou baseball team.


	20. Foresight

**Foresight**

* * *

In which Takashima holds Miyuki's future in her hands

* * *

"You'll come and watch us play, won't you?" Kuramochi was speaking into his phone.

Takashima couldn't see the name on the screen or hear the other party, but she knew who was on the other end of the line. That utterly absorbed look on the shortstop's face, the brightness of his eyes, and his goofy smile all told her that Aotsuki Wakana was the girl he was talking to. She had heard from various sources that they'd met up in both Nagano and Chiba during the baseball team's week-long break at the start of the year, and things seemed to have developed nicely for them in the two months since then.

"That's fantastic! Yes, we'll look for each other after the game... oh really? That's a coincidence… yeah, I've got a present for you too – it's just a small gift, but I really hope you'll like it…" Kuramochi couldn't stop a wide grin and light blush from suffusing his cheeks as he caught Takashima's eye at the main entrance to the dorm. He turned away from her with a half-polite, half-sheepish nod to continue his conversation with his girlfriend in a more private spot.

Takashima hadn't found out yet whether they'd managed a double date with Miyuki and Sawamura, but that was improbable, given that Miyuki would have wanted to spend the time with his father.

But even if they'd been apart that week, the catcher and the pitcher had been making up for it – Miyuki and Sawamura were seldom seen apart during recreational time these days. They'd been mostly discreet about their relationship in front of others – there was no public hand-holding or kissing, thank goodness for their common sense – but they were bold about how they preferred to spend their free hours together.

In the public eye, they made the kind of physical contact that was neutral enough not to raise eyebrows. Sitting close together in the canteen and sharing food, for example, or sitting back-to-back on the grass between training sessions as Miyuki went through his game data and Sawamura read the latest manga chapters.

However, Sawamura, in his big-hearted way, was sensitive to how the rest of the team would want regular access to their captain alone. He would first hound Miyuki to catch his pitches in the evening, then when the catcher was done with both him and Furuya, it would be Sawamura who would generously remind Miyuki to get out there and walk about by himself a bit so that someone else could talk to him if they needed to. If Miyuki were to slip into Sawamura's room later at night and bribe Kuramochi to go off and do his homework somewhere else for an hour, that was another matter.

"But they'd better not go too far," Takashima muttered to herself. "Or I'll smack them both upside the head."

"They'll be fine, Takashima-sensei," came a voice behind her, at the very same moment that she realised she'd spoken aloud.

She turned to see Chris walking towards her, a bag slung over his left shoulder and his right hand in his trouser pocket.

"Chris-kun," she said, giving him one of her most genuine smiles and doing her best not to let any sadness tinge the look on her face – for the young man was just a couple of weeks away from graduating, and she wouldn't see him anywhere near as often. "What brings you to school today?"

The third-year students had been given the whole of February off, after their final exams had ended in late January. They wouldn't have to show up in school again until it was time for them to graduate in spring.

"Miyauchi is here to see Kawakami. Tanba decided to tag along, and I followed."

"I see. Are you all ready to start university life in a few months?"

"I hope so," he replied in his gentle voice. "One of the loose ends I've been trying to tie up here at Seidou is reminding that very pair I believe you've just been muttering about that they had better not do anything stupid."

"I'm relieved to hear that. I have a suspicion that warnings from you hit them harder than any from me."

"Oh, you're far more intimidating than you know, Takashima-sensei," Chris chuckled ironically. "They'll both be terrified if you give them a formal talking-to."

"I don't know about that. I swear that Miyuki has absolutely no respect for me and never did, right from the start," she huffed, adjusting her spectacles primly.

"He respects you enormously. He just refuses to show it to you easily," Chris assured her. "I think he thinks it's a private game between the two of you."

"Always an uphill battle with that one."

"Well, don't worry about having to scold him over Sawamura. They've been doing their very best to be careful, even when no one's looking. I've made them promise to be as good as they can."

"Which may not be very good," Takashima murmured pessimistically.

"We'll just have to trust that they know the boundaries, won't we?" Chris remarked before politely taking his leave of her and walking off to where Tanba was waiting for him.

Takashima watched him go. When she looked away to glance around the dorm compound, she spotted Miyuki and Sawamura walking along the open-sided passageway of the upper floor, then disappearing into Miyuki's room. They'd probably just been with Chris somewhere on the grounds before he'd come along and spoken to her. She had no qualms about being blatantly nosy when it involved her boys, so she made her way upstairs to find out if she could hear what was going on inside that room. She hoped there wouldn't be too much heavy breathing and too many slurping noises, or she was going to have to slip into serious disciplinarian mode – without making a scene which could start tongues wagging and bring the wrath of the baseball federation down on their heads.

She leaned against the wall right beside the door, shifted her ponytail to one side and tipped her head back. In that position, she managed to make out most of what was happening inside without needing to actually press her ear to the door – she was still slightly embarrassed by how Masuko had caught her doing precisely that outside Room 5 last year.

"…not mad at me?" It was Miyuki speaking.

"Huh? About what?"

"Earlier this morning – in the bullpen."

"Oh. That."

"I'm sorry that I had to tell you off."

"Why should you be sorry about that?"

"Because I don't like hurting your feelings."

"Idiot," Sawamura snapped. "It's your job as captain to keep us all in line. I was too caught up in making fun of Furuya to pay enough attention to Ono-senpai's pointers. If you hadn't ticked me off, that would've been weird."

"It doesn't upset you that I'm all business in training and matches?" Miyuki asked.

"If I were, I wouldn't deserve much respect as a member of this team, would I? And if you didn't treat me exactly the same way you do everyone else when we're on the field and in the bullpen, you wouldn't be a captain I'd respect either."

"So you're really not upset?"

"I was a little at first, but I figured that I deserved the telling-off, so… it's nothing I'll beat you up over."

"I'm really glad to know that, Eijun. Truly."

"Yeah, well… is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"That, and to be alone with you for a bit."

"Hmm, okay, but you know, we'll soon need to find a better place to thrash out such issues soon."

"Why?"

"We need to get used to _not_ using our rooms for private time," Sawamura explained. "Once the new first-years move in, we won't be able to have alone time just by asking Kuramochi-senpai to please give us half an hour, or by clearing everyone out of your room. It won't be so easy."

"Wow, you've actually been _thinking_, have you?" Miyuki remarked teasingly. "It's getting to be a habit with you these days – I'm obviously a good influence."

"Shut up, Kazuya," Sawamura growled.

"I'll shut up if you'll kiss me. It's driving me mad that I haven't been able to get my hands on you all afternoon." He sounded positively petulant.

"I'll do _more_ than that if you'll catch for me fifteen minutes longer than you catch for Furuya this evening," Sawamura said meaningfully, and very cheekily, thought Takashima.

"Just kiss me, idiot – if we do too much more than that, Chris-senpai will flay me. You heard what he said."

"But you'll still catch for me?" there was definitely a grin in that voice.

"When have I ever been able to refuse you without regretting it later?"

A satisfied, purring noise came from Sawamura, then a significant silence descended upon the room at Takashima's back.

Despite the blatant rule-breaking going on behind her, the assistant coach breathed a little more easily now that she'd heard their exchange. Miyuki was still Miyuki in his playfulness, but there was no biting edge to his voice or in the words he spoke to Sawamura. For a kid like him, that was surprisingly… _sweet_ – not an adjective she would previously have attached to the catcher.

As much as she liked him, she knew better than most people what a handful he could be. And as she'd watched him gradually let Sawamura under his skin, she'd feared that he was only treating this as a game, to get the better of Kuramochi and Chris. Her initial fears had been assuaged by what she'd seen of the two of them together since the end of the autumn tournament. Miyuki hadn't looked like he was playing at anything – in fact, he appeared as sincere as it was possible for him to be. So she'd waited and watched, and now she had an opportunity to overhear them when they were alone, which would tell her more about how her Cheshire was really treating her Southpaw Kitten.

Was he being neutral enough as captain and starting catcher? Yes. But was he being good to Sawamura at the same time?

"I wish we'd never have to leave Seidou," Miyuki's voice came through after a minute, husky from the kiss, but also sounding uncharacteristically wistful.

"Your graduation is a whole year away," Sawamura countered.

"But even if we make it all the way in the summer tournament at Koushien – and the odds of that are not fantastic considering the serious competition – I'll be leaving the baseball team in six months, at most. Then I'll be absorbed in my exams, then I'll be gone. I don't want to spend a whole year after that not being able to see you and touch you every day."

"Hey, Kazuya."

"Hmm?"

"Don't be so down about it. You'll still have baseball because the universities and the professional teams will be queuing up to recruit you –"

"But I won't see –"

"– and I'll be right there with you sooner than you think. I'm not letting you leave me behind for long. A year will just fly by."

"You'll forget me once I'm gone."

"No I won't."

"You'll decide that Kanemaru makes a better boyfriend. He probably does too."

Violent spluttering followed by loud coughing told Takashima that Sawamura had choked on his own spit at the thought of dating Kanemaru. "Mi – _*hack* _Miyuk – _*choke*_ – _ack_, Miyuki Kazuya! What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"And what if _I_ get caught up in uni life or pro life and somehow feel… distant from you? Aren't you worried about that?" Miyuki ploughed on with his fretting.

"Are you _intending_ to forget about me?" Sawamura demanded loudly.

"No, Eijun. But life doesn't always go the way we plan."

"I know that! I know that _very_ well, from seeing what happened to Chris-senpai, and from you telling me what happened to your mum and how your dad has been for years…" Sawamura sounded for a moment as if he was about to cry, but he rallied and continued firmly: "But I won't let you get away from me, Miyuki Kazuya."

"Oh?" Miyuki sounded genuinely curious.

"Yeah. I came to Seidou because of you, and now that we both know you're dead serious about _us_, I'll never let you get away."

"Really?"

"Yup. And even if for whatever reason we can't make it into the same uni or onto the same teams in future, we'll still be together in our private lives. I'm not giving up on you."

"Even if _I_ decide to give up on you one day?" Miyuki asked, in a manner that seemed like his usual playfulness, but with a tight undertone that told Takashima it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

"If you do, I'll pursue you like you pursued me here," Sawamura declared boldly, obviously hearing the message beyond the words.

"And what if I tell you to go away and stop stalking me because I'm _so_ over you?" Miyuki teased.

"Then I'll remind you of everything you're giving up. I'll win you over again like I won you over here at Seidou."

"_Baka_, you never had to win me over – you had me pretty much from the start," Miyuki confessed.

"I'll do it anyway. I won't give up. I'm really persistent, and I won't give up until you remember everything you can't resist about me."

"What if I'm having an affair with someone else by then? What if Narumiya Mei seduces me?"

Takashima thought Miyuki was _really_ pushing it, because he seemed to be saying _every_ unromantic thing possible to make Sawamura feel insecure about their future together. But without missing a beat, the pitcher said with absolute conviction: "If you're ever stupid enough to let him, you're going to spend every second of your time with him realising how much you'd rather be with me instead."

"My, you're full of confidence these days," Miyuki murmured, sounding as if he was smiling as he spoke.

"Uh-huh – because I can feel it, as you know – when I'm holding you like this – I can feel what you really mean when you say these things. You're talking about all the things you're afraid of in the hope of warding them off, and not because you want them to happen deep down inside."

"When did you get so smart?"

"I've always been smart."

"Sure, and I've always had flawless eyesight."

"Kazuya, shut up for a bit and listen to me," Sawamura said firmly. "You're always looking years ahead, beyond how far the rest of us know how to look. By the time our third-year senpai retired, you'd already started thinking about the team Seidou would have after _your_ year retires. And because we didn't do as well as we'd hoped in the Jinguu when you were out injured, you began planning for the strongest possible team without you in it. And you run through every variation of worst-case scenarios in your head so you'll be prepared for everything, but most of all so you can work out how to _win_. I know you're like that with me too – you're running through all the things that could go wrong not because you really believe they will, but because you really, really want to make sure they don't come about, and even if shit happens and they occur, you'll already have figured out how to make you and me work for the long-term anyway. I know you. I'm going to trust in _your_ foresight and _my_ refusal to give up to get us through the bad times as well as the good."

It was at that moment that Takashima realised for the first time that Sawamura possibly knew some aspects of Miyuki's character better than she herself did.

She had her fears for these two boys. She had her doubts. She'd lived through enough as an adult to know that even the most sincere teenage love could be outgrown, and even the greatest determination to hold on to a connection with another person could end in failure. But if there was any kid whose tenacity she could believe would overcome the odds, it was Sawamura; and if there was any kid whose mental sharpness and planning could prevent the demise of a relationship he didn't want to lose, it was Miyuki.

"You have that much faith in me, huh?" Miyuki asked with a warm, fond overtone in his voice.

"Yup," Sawamura declared, without an iota of doubt.

"How did someone as sweet as you end up agreeing to go out with me?" Miyuki wondered.

"You asked and I said yes, moron."

"But you know… realistically speaking," Miyuki reverted to his usual jovial note. "_I'm_ the one who's going to have to fight off hordes of people trying to seduce _you_."

"Ehhhh?"

"Hordes. And if I break your heart, Chris-senpai, Kuramochi, your scary little Harucchi, Wakana-chan, your entire middle-school gang, the whole catering team from Seidou, and, oh, probably Masuko-san too, will all kill me dead."

"Heh, so you'd better treat me damn well."

"I intend to do just that…"

Another significant silence told Takashima they probably had their tongues in each other's mouths again. She waited a while longer to make certain she wasn't hearing anything suggestive of clothing being removed or things getting too hot and heavy. Then she tiptoed away, hoping that – as Chris so optimistically believed – they would know the boundaries.

For the rest of February, and into early March, she saw and heard nothing that gave her too much concern about this pair of tomcats. She regularly considered giving them a strict talking-to about how they should wait until they were both out of school before going _all the way_. She also internally debated the wisdom of lecturing them about how, when they eventually _did_ go all the way, they should never forget the absolute necessity of lubricant, as well as how condoms were probably an excellent idea even if they were both very likely clean, given their age and inexperience.

But she didn't want to broach topics that would make it seem as if she, their teacher and assistant coach, was in any way tacitly assenting to their defiance of school rules. So in the end, she texted Chris to ask if he had already raised such matters with those two troublesome kouhai of his. To her relief, he said he had – in great detail, too – and that they seemed to have taken him very seriously. _You should have seen the looks of horrified fascination on their faces_, he texted back with a smiley. _You'd never have guessed Miyuki of all people could be so naïve…_

Heavens, she would really miss Chris once he left Seidou for good. There wasn't a more reliable cool cat for getting done what needed to be done in so many areas of school life, baseball, personal affairs and more!

So Takashima had to admit to herself that she hardly felt less emotional than the younger students on the third-years' graduation day in spring, when a good number of kids cried openly as the finality of it sank in – they were truly losing their senpai to higher education or professional baseball. Zono wailed like an infant as he clutched Isashiki, all the student-managers were weeping as they surrounded Fujiwara, and Sawamura was, unsurprisingly, in floods of tears that mingled with his irresistible grin as he bade a formal goodbye to Chris.

Of course the third-years would still visit, as so many old boys of the school did, but now that they were holding their high-school certificates, they were officially no longer students of Seidou, and everyone was genuinely experiencing a kind of mourning even at the same time as they looked to the future with a sense of excitement.

An hour after the last graduating students had left the school grounds to go home with their families, Takashima spotted Sawamura alternately laughing and crying on Miyuki's shoulder behind the dorm as she crossed the road beside the chain-link fence. She said nothing about it, because this was a day when it was only to be expected that emotions would get the better of some kids. If the overflow of all those feelings meant that one boy was shedding tears into another boy's jacket and the two were wrapping their arms around each other out in the open, well, it wasn't a day to take them to task for it.

Sawamura didn't see her, but Miyuki did, and he gave her a little smile and a nod as she passed them without saying a word.

But later that evening, as she stepped out of the main school building, she found Miyuki waiting for her, leaning against the side wall of the block she'd exited from. His posture was reminiscent of the pose he'd struck that afternoon early on in this academic year, when he had waylaid her to demand his "commission" for luring Sawamura to Seidou. However, aside from the pose, everything else was different – the expression on his face was serious, and he wasn't in training gear but still in his school uniform, jacket and all, though he'd shed his school tie. He wasn't tossing a baseball up and down in his hand either; this time, it was a neatly folded piece of paper he held instead.

"Rei-chan," he addressed her.

"Miyuki-kun? Is Sawamura all right?"

"Sawamura's fine. He's still crying a bit over the senpai, but Kuramochi's kicking it out of him in their room."

"Should I be relieved or worried about that?"

Miyuki chuckled, looked down at the ground for a bit, then raised his eyes to her face again and said: "Rei-chan, I think neither of us owes the other a commission any more?"

"Oh?"

"Well, Sawamura's more than earned his keep here, and he's paid us back in spades in countless ways. So you shouldn't be paying me for reeling him in for you any more than I should be paying you for getting my hands all over him, eh? He's his own man."

"If you say so," she smiled. "_I_ wasn't the one who started all that nonsense, speaking of him as if he were a piece of meat."

"I do say so. And in an about-turn from my previously mean way of talking about him, I'd like to ask you for a favour. It's a day for sappy expressions of undying affection and lifelong connections, so it's probably the only sort of day on which I'll ever be able to do something that's so unlike me."

"What is it, Miyuki-kun?"

He let a sly, shrewd look glimmer in his eyes for a moment as he asked: "Before that, can we have a clear understanding that everything I say does not, in any way, shape or form, constitute an admission that Sawamura or I are breaking any school rules whatsoever, and that none of this should be taken as an incriminating admission that we are currently in any sort of relationship that would be frowned upon by the school and baseball authorities? And that everything I mention with regard to such a relationship should be understood as something we intend to engage in after we both leave school, and not as something we are already engaging in?"

"We can indeed operate on such an assumption."

Then the serious, _formal_ look returned to his eyes as he took a deep breath and held it for a second before he said: "Okay, then… I'm a bigger idiot in a lot of ways than Sawamura will ever be, and if ever, in the near or distant future, I should do anything stupid like leave him, or lose him, and you somehow hear from your impressive multitude of informers that the breakup's gone on too long and he's been crying about it, will you please give him this for me?"

With both hands, Miyuki held out the folded piece of paper to her. Takashima received it, shot him a querying glance as to whether she should unfold it now, received an affirmative look in response, and opened up the sheet.

It was a complete reversal of the idea of earning a commission on Sawamura. The best way she could describe it was as a handwritten and signed deed, giving Sawamura Eijun the right to claim Miyuki Kazuya as his own, even if the said Miyuki Kazuya was ever enough of a brainless fool to let himself be parted from Sawamura Eijun.

"So you're his, always," she remarked.

"Even if I ever forget it."

"I'll remind you."

"I'd appreciate it if you would."

"I'll send Kuramochi along as well to deliver a good hard kick up your backside."

"I'll deserve that if I ever leave Sawamura."

"Even if you do it out of some misguided notion that you're leaving him for his own sake because you're not good for him and suchlike nonsense?"

"As Chris-senpai told me a few months ago, I'll just have to make sure to _be_ good for him."

"You do that, Miyuki-kun."

"I'll do my best."

"You were waiting for me on purpose that afternoon at the start of this school year, weren't you?" she asked as she folded the piece of paper back up into a tidy rectangle.

"Was I?" he asked disingenuously, the cheeky spark back in his eyes.

"You _never_ slip away from training – you're always in the thick of it – but that afternoon, you saw me about to walk off alone, and you went around by the other side of the storage sheds to lie in wait for me, didn't you?"

"I'm not confessing to anything," he grinned.

"Even back then, you were itching to talk about Sawamura, weren't you? You needed, in your twisted way, to express how confused you felt about him, and I was the best person to talk to because I was the one who'd brought him all the way from Nagano right into your life the day he stood up to Azuma Kiyokuni."

"You're imputing too many motives to me…" Miyuki grinned and lightly scratched the back of his head. She thought he was blushing, but it was hard to tell by the light of the lamps illuminating this outdoor area in the darkness of this spring evening.

"It's a little too late to play the innocent now, isn't it?"

"Ah, you never go easy on me, Rei-chan…"

"You never go easy on me either," she retorted.

"That is true," he admitted freely, even a little abashedly.

It dawned on her there and then how different Miyuki was now in his private moments. On the field, he was the same as ever, but in personal moments like these, he'd become willing to be vulnerable, instead of being all sharp edges, blunt words and emotional walls like he'd been not so long ago. So she said to him sincerely, with a gentle smile: "But what a long way you've come since that day, Miyuki-kun."

He flashed her a surprised look, and when she didn't follow up the kind comment with anything snippy or snarky, he gave her a pure smile that was stunning in its clarity. "Thank you for _everything_, Rei-chan," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then."

At that very moment, Sawamura – whom they heard long before they could make out his face – came trotting across the car park from the training fields, calling out: "Oi! Miyuki Kazuya! So this is where you've been! I've been looking for you… Oh! Takashima-sensei!"

"Sawamura," she greeted him in response to the bow he gave her once he'd run up to them.

"Has this fellow been bothering you, Takashima-sensei?" Sawamura asked, jabbing a thumb in Miyuki's direction.

"Oi," Miyuki chided. "'This fellow'? Is that any way to refer to your senpai?"

"Miyuki-kun has been surprisingly gentlemanly this evening, and hasn't bothered me at all," she assured the pitcher.

"Really?" Sawamura asked disbelievingly. "He's been behaving himself?"

"Of course I have," Miyuki sighed. "I was just talking to Takashima-sensei about… my future."

"Cool!" Sawamura exclaimed. "Like career plans and all?"

"Even bigger than career plans," Miyuki said.

"Eh? That sounds serious…"

"It is," Miyuki agreed, putting an arm around Sawamura's shoulders. "Rei-chan's got my future right there in her hands."

"Ooh," Sawamura's eyes went wide. "That piece of paper? Can I see it?"

"Uh-uh, not anytime soon, or _ever_, if I do everything right," Miyuki said quickly, pulling Sawamura away from Takashima after giving her a quick bow to say goodbye and forcing Sawamura into one too.

"Whaaaaat…?" Sawamura wailed as Miyuki dragged him away, back towards the dorm. "But whyyyyy…?"

The pitcher tried to break free of Miyuki's solid grip to pry something out of their assistant coach about the mysterious piece of paper, but his catcher wouldn't let him go, and Takashima chuckled to herself as she watched them walk away, Sawamura Eijun pouting and protesting, but not managing to squirm away from Miyuki Kazuya, who was doing a pretty good job of keeping a firm, unbreakable hold on his future.

\- END -

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Daiya no A, of course. It belongs to Terajima Yuuji.

**Author's Note, 2 Oct 2015**: Thank you to everyone who has accompanied me on this journey through my first Daiya no A fanfic. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

I based the story on the world of Part I of the manga, adding my own developments, conversations and headcanon-y stuff that I thought could conceivably fit in between or alongside the scenes that are actually shown in canon. If any other developments occur from Part II onwards that contradict anything in this fic, well, that's beyond what lies in this particular little universe.


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